


Legacy

by PracticingProductivity



Series: Legacy [1]
Category: Tales of Zestiria
Genre: Action here and there, Drama, F/F, First chapter is fluff, Intrigue, M/M, Romance, Slowmance, basically a sequel, endgame RosAli, original characters for plot only i promise, plot OCs, spoilers for alisha dlc
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-27
Updated: 2017-01-08
Packaged: 2018-05-29 12:44:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 28,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6375211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PracticingProductivity/pseuds/PracticingProductivity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Bartlow's death, Hyland is without a head of state. Its political elite are divided and anti-peace extremists endanger the fragile truce with Rolance, calling for a war that could herald a second Age of Chaos. Alisha struggles to secure peace between the two countries at any cost, and Rose dangerously toes the line between a Shepherd's duty and what's personal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I honestly have no idea how I feel about this story, but I hope you enjoy it either way! Constructive criticism is welcome. If you want to read just the first chapter for some AliRose fluff, that's fine. After that things get a lot darker for the rest of the story. That's not to say there aren't sprinkles of fluff, but it's not a fluffy story. For reasons of development, I wanted to rewrite some of Alisha and Rose's fight in the inn, so forgive the bit of recap, but it's all new material after that. :) Oh! It is strongly recommended you play Alisha's DLC or at least know what happens before reading this story.

After the initial surprise of being slapped across the face by the princess wore off – and it wore pretty quickly – Rose was surprised to find that it actually hurt. A lot. And in the briefest moment of awareness before this was about to escalate into an all-out brawl was that Alisha's strength shouldn't have been a surprise at all. Alisha wielded a spear larger than she was. Yet despite this astonishing acknowledgement (okay, minimally surprising) and the fact that said princess was still wearing her armor, it was not enough stop Rose from slapping back. Even though it really should have.

Rose made to shove Alisha away, Alisha shoved back. Hard. The door rattled on hits hinges as Rose's weight collided with it. And then she tackled the knight princess to the floor with a thud loud enough to concern the neighbors but not enough to bring someone knocking on their door. Blows followed where angry words were exchanged.

Alisha had Rose pinned beneath her. Her normally well-kept hair was wrestling free of its ponytail. Her green eyes were still vibrant in shadow of the curtain of her hair, and her hairline was visibly sleek with sweat. Her expression, tired yet unyielding. It pissed Rose off. Rose swung a leg outward, catching Alisha's. The sandy blonde stumbled, her hip thunking into the floorboards as she fell at an angle, and for a brief second her chest fell heavy against Rose's before the merchant/assassin grabbed hold of the pale pink collar of Alisha's custom uniform and reversed their positions.

Alisha saw stars as her head hit the floor. She could feel her hair plastered to her face, the carefully styled curl unraveled with the weight of her perspiration. It was satisfying to see Rose just as out of breath, yet satisfaction was dimmed by her disadvantageous position on the floor.

“Give up yet, Princess?” Rose still managed to sound cocky through the rasping breaths she needed to be able to speak. She tossed her head to one side, and rolled her shoulder against one cheek in a vain attempt to tuck at least some of her hair behind her ear.

“You know I won't.” Alisha struggled to convey her conviction despite her own breathlessness. “I don't care if you're not the one to tell me, but I'm going to go with you and I  _will_  find out what happened to Sorey.”

Rose frowned. Her grip went just a little slack. The princess knight's chest rose and fell as her lungs fought to restore their wind with heaving breaths. That her breathing was so visible made Rose briefly wonder what exactly kind of armor was beneath that pink tunic.

Alisha's eyes fell shut. When she blinked back up at Rose, fresh tears escaped the corners. Alisha raised an arm to wipe the them away, forgetting her gauntlets. She winced as the metal scraped her face. Her arm flopped lifelessly to the floor again, a delirious chuckle passing her lips.

“ 'Can't even wipe my own tears – how pathetic I must be,' right?” One corner of Rose's mouth was tugged upward.

Alisha audibly gasped in outraged protest. “Don't presume to read my mind!”

Their whole scrabble, Alisha's brow had been knit with frustration and determination, but now her eyes were afire with genuine anger. Rose swallowed, the amusement falling from her lips like an avalanche.

At Rose's apparent change of tune, Alisha's ire dissolved as swiftly as it had risen. Her whole face softened into a painful canvas of hurt – physical and emotional.

By now Rose's hands had relaxed to the point where they had been resting gently on Alisha's shoulders, feeling hard armor beneath them. The princess' tears were still flowing. It was almost an automatic gesture on Rose's part – she hated crying, and she hated when other people cried. Rose relocated her hand to Alisha's cheek, using the pad of her callused thumb to brush away the little droplets of moisture. Awareness and embarrassment were slow to kick in as Alisha's eyes widened. Rose snatched her hand back as if the tears had been acid. Her hand hovered helplessly in the air – long enough for Alisha to notice the smear of blood on the palm.

“Rose, your hand!” Alisha shot upright, grabbing Rose by the wrist and bringing it within inches of her face without any consideration for the positioning for the rest of the body.

Rose's balance betrayed her and she fumbled into into Alisha's lap with an “oomph,” her head pressed forcefully to Alisha's hard, metal-reinforced chest.

“Yes, it's a hand, now kindly give it back because I am  _so_  uncomfortable right now,” said Rose, fighting against the other woman's iron grip.

“S-sorry!” Only now realizing the awkard angle at which Rose's neck was being bent. Alisha practically threw Rose's hand from her grasp and scrambled to her feet.

Rose's support was now gone, leaving her to collapse into an uncoordinated heap. She took her time standing up, stretching and working her muscles. She rolled her neck to each side, gently massaging. In no particular hurry, Rose turned her hand over to see what the fuss was about.

“It's just a scratch.” Rose shrugged.

“You must have cut it on my armor; allow me to take responsibility,” said Alisha. Her tone brooked little room for argument.

In two heavy, kathunking steps, Alisha was directly in front of Rose with her gloved hands cradling Rose's naked one. It wasn't the only blemish on the redhead's hand. It was covered in tiny scars. Thin lines of white and pink, some straight while others hooked and curved. Not much unlike my own, Alisha mused.

“You know, I think Lailah could probably handle that better.” Rose used her free hand to absently scratch behind an ear.

Alisha's fingers sprung open. “Sorry. You're probably right.”

“Lailah?” Rose called out.

“Of course,” Lailah answered.

“Rose.” Alisha ventured as Lailah began to weave her seraphic arte. With the fight out of their system maybe there was hope for conversation. Just maybe.

“What? I already told you-”

“I wasn't going to ask about Sorey!” The words came out harsher than anticipated. Alisha winced, and took a deep breath to regain control over her voice. “I was just wondering... why don't you wear gloves?”

Rose's brow furrowed comically. Alisha bit back a tiny smile.

“What do you mean?” asked Rose. “That's an odd question.”

“I couldn't help but notice how many scars there were on your hand.”

“So?” Rose lifted a brow, irritation creeping into her tone.

“I have a few myself, but the gloves help to prevent it.”

Rose made a humming noise that Alisha chose to interpret as understanding rather than the more likely disapproval of such a reason for wearing gloves.

“I have worn gloves, but not because I care about scars. I don't. It's not like anyone is examining your hand that closely.”

“But as a girl...” Alisha didn't want to finish the sentence. She knew how ridiculous it sounded now that it was halfway out of her mouth.

“Eeeh, if my scars are a deal breaker, then that shallow tool isn't worth my time.”

Alisha stared at her hand. Did that make her shallow?

“Show me your hand,” Rose said. It was a command, but not given harshly.

Lailah was finished healing now and took a step away from Rose.

With some reserve, Alisha began to unbuckle her gauntlets. Very carefully she unsheathed her right hand and presented it to Rose, knuckles facing skyward. Rose appeared to examine it closely.

“Palm up.”

Alisha obeyed, expecting at any moment for Rose to take her hand in hers. When it didn't happen, she found she was a bit disappointed for some reason.

“I suppose the gloves help, but you're not so unblemished yourself there, Princess,” Rose jabbed when she had finished her inspection.

Alisha bristled slightly. Rose only used her title when she was being patronizing. Alisha hastily stuffed her hand back into her gloves, not caring she was just going to remove them for bed soon anyway.

“It's not like I have a choice,” the princess huffed. “If I'm to be a respectable stateswoman of noble blood, I need to at least look like one even if I can't act it. Most princesses you read about don't pick up a weapon. But I have to keep my hands at least somewhat clean if I'm going to-- to-- let it be” she grimaced at the next word, “ _kissed_  by dignitaries of a lower station.”

Rose's eyes widened considerably before her shock dissolved into mirth and a struggle to stop laughter from escaping as she spoke. “Wait. You mean people really do that? Kiss your ring and all that garbage?”

“They do,” Alisha muttered and stared blankly at the wall, drawing up a recent memory of a nobleman whose apparent cold had not prevented him from sharing his germs with her. Really! If you're sick, don't go spreading it around. You'd think it was common sense. She'd wanted to disinfect her entire house after that. “And nine times out of ten, it's gross. They leave saliva on you, or they linger for far too long. Hardly anyone gets it right and isn't gross. It's not a custom I'm fond of, but it does make you appreciate the ones who don't make you want to gag.”

When Alisha retrieved her focus and cast it upon Rose, she found the other woman looking rather amused.

“What?” Alisha fidgeted inwardly under Rose's gaze, hoping her self-consciousness was not betrayed by the color of her cheeks.

“I'm just impressed,” said Rose. “I've heard you go on about your mission to right the wrongs of the world, but I don't think I've ever heard you vent a good old rant. Like about normal stuff. Feel good to get it off your chest?”

A momentary reflection told Alisha that it had. She tucked her chin toward her chest like a sort of half-nod and allowed herself the tiniest of smiles.

…

Generally, Rose was good at keeping her mind on task but as the two roamed through Lastonbell looking for trouble, the scene from that morning looped on replay. She was glad Alisha had taken the lead, because she didn't want to Alisha to see the unsuppressible grin Rose wore as she remembered Alisha's terrified shriek as the bedsheets had been torn off of her. The way she'd dove after them like they were her lifeline. Her round, beautifully curved, and extremely naked bottom as she'd landed on her stomach and scrambled to crawl beneath them once more. There was nothing that could be done to stop Rose's roaring laughter that followed.

“No wonder you asked for your own room.” Rose had wiped away a tear. “And here I thought you were just too good to sleep with us common folk. You sleep naked in the barracks too?”

“Sh-shut up!” cried the lump under the sheets. “Of course not!”

Rose just laughed harder, picturing it in her head.

…

Past the threshhold of their room at the Lastonbell inn, Alisha stretched her arms above her head, sighing.

“I can't wait to get out of these clothes,” she said. “They're so cumbersome.”

“So you've said,” Rose remarked. “I just can't wait to shower.”

“That makes two of us,” Alisha smiled at her.

Alisha cast aside her clothes with none of the self-consciousness she'd displayed before. Rose made a point of looking away.

“You go first,” Rose offered. “I'll go after you.”

And so it went. As a courtesy, the seraphim had vacated their vessels as they did when Rose got changed or showered. Sometimes Zaveid put up a protest, but was always short-lived, with Mikleo and Edna displaying a rare feat of teamwork in dragging Zaveid out with them.

When Rose emerged from the shower into the bedroom Alisha was already in her night clothes, and her hair was in a most unprincess-like state. It hung from her head in half-damp clumps with amazing frizzle. Upon hearing the door open, Alisha turned, catching Rose's wicked grin.

A flattering shade of pink dusted Alisha's cheeks and she quickly looked away. She threw the towel over her head and ruffled it furiously against her unruly hair.

“If I brush it right away, it just spreads all the water around and takes forever to dry,” Alisha pouted.

“Advantage one million and ten to having short hair: it dries quickly.” Alisha towel-dried her own head.

“But looks just as ridiculous unbrushed,” Alisha giggled at the frizz poking every which way from her companion's head. “And I highly doubt there are anywhere close to a million advantages of having short hair.”

“Have you ever had your hair short?” Rose raised her most critical and judgy eyebrow.

“Not that I can recall,” Alisha admitted.

“Then don't knock it 'til you've tried it.” Rose stuck her tongue out playfully.

Seemingly out of nowhere Alisha clapped her hands together and proposed “We should do each other's hair!”

Rose blinked.

“It is one of the safer activities of the dangerous slumber party, yes? I should like to try it.”

Rose sighed in resignation, offering a fond smile to her friend – who reciprocated with such warmth and gaiety, Rose felt her own cheeks flush a little.

“I've never done someone else's hair before.” Alisha's fingers danced nervously in her lap. It was rather cute.

There it was, Rose admitted it. Alisha was cute. The way she chattered on while she ran a brush through Rose's hair was cute, her laugh her smile her everything. Rose wondered when she began to feel that way. It didn't matter, she decided.

“I started doing my own hair probably when I was around ten or eleven,” said Alisha. “Before that, of course, I'd had maids do my hair.”

“Standard procedure for the fancy-shmancy high-born,” said Rose, twisting her head to look up at Alisha.

It could easily have been one of her jabs at Alisha's status in society, but it lacked any of the usual bite.

“Yes.”

The ease with which the brush glided away from her scalp told Rose her turn was almost done. Her hair was too short to take any significant amount of time.

“So what made you decide to change that?” Rose asked, in hopes of distractng her. The seraphim had yet to return from... wherever. It was just the two of them. If a thousand and one questions could stall this moment from ever ending, she'd ask them all. Truth be told, she'd never had a sleepover before either. Every night was like a sleepover with the Sparrowfeathers.

“I started because it didn't seem right that I should have others do something for me that I should learn how to do myself. I shouldn't trouble someone else to do something so seemingly simple. That was why initially, anyway. But that changed.”

“It did?”

“It did.”

Rose could imagine Alisha nodding, her hair bobbing merrily with the movement.

“I eventually realized that it was a silly reason,” Alisha let out an affectionate sigh directed at her childhood self.

Rose chuckled. “Doing your hair was part of their job. They got paid to do it.”

“Exactly. But...” Alisha paused. “By then I liked doing it because it made me feel grown up, I guess.”

Rose noiselessy reveled in her success, Alisha had been mindlessly brushing, yet to use a single hair clip.

“Do you ever miss it?” Question number three already. Nine hundred and ninety-eight left to go.

“I had this one maid. Marion,” said Alisha as she set the brush down much to Rose's dismay. “Sometimes when I woke up early and if she had extra time before her other duties, she would give me a little massage.”

Alisha demonstrated. Her naked fingers raking slowly through Roses hair to apply gentle pressure in a circular motion.

“Oooh, that feels nice,” Rose hummed, following up with an obviously fake snore.

A melodic giggle bubbled from Alisha. “I know, right?”

As Alisha's hands migrated over Rose's scalp, Rose began to find herself falling on this side of sleep. Rose thought she might melt under Alisha's touch and wanted to cling to this moment for eternity, but eventually Alisha picked up the brush again. Before long, she was sliding the last clip into place.

“What do you think?” Alisha's asked, reaching over Rose's shoulder to thrust a hand mirror in front of Rose. The action brought her flush with Rose's back.

The warmth from Alisha's body coursed through Rose, sending color to her cheeks. Rose furiously tried to hide it. She made exaggerated efforts to see as much of the back of her head in the mirror as possible. It really wasn't bad. A few well-placed hair clips created the illusion of having more hair, twisted and pinned tightly to her head. Some locks still hung freely to frame her face.

“It's really good. Very elegant.” Rose gave Alisha broad grin in the mirror, having recovered from some of her earlier embarassment.

Alisha, having caught the hitch of hesitation before the reply, prodded Rose. “I'm sensing a but in there.”

This side of Alisha, the one comfortable enough with her to playfully stab Rose in the shoulder with her fingers in pursuit of the full truth, was probably Rose's favorite. Definitely better than being slapped in the face for the truth.

“It's really not me,” Rose added a little sheepishly.

Pleased laughter erupted from Alisha. “No, it really isn't!”

“Okay, okay.” Rose swatted the mirror away. “No more making fun of me.”

She stood, patting the spot on the edge of the bed where she'd been sitting. Alisha slid into it, her legs dangling happy off the side while she sat patiently with her hands in her lap.

“Now, I don't know how do anything fancy like your curly bangs or ponytail -”

“That's all right,” Alisha interjected her reassurances.

“- or anything at all really,” Rose continued where she'd left off.

“That's fine.”

Rose bravely equipped the brush and went to work. She took greath length to be as gentle as possible, always working from the bottom up – none of the rough yanking she subjected herself to out of sheer laziness. Alisha's hair was far softer than it had any right to be. Impulse begged Rose to toss her arms around Alisha and bury her face into her silky hair. Rose stayed the impulse, redirecting her thoughts to what she should do with Alisha's hair.

“How about...” Rose began.

“Spoiling the surprise?” Alisha teased.

“Wouldn't dream of it.” Rose bit back a goofy smile. She really loved Alisha like this. “Would Her Highness like a massage as well?”

“Oh, yes, please and thank you!” Alisha clapped her hands in delight. “It's been forever.”

Rose was more than happy to oblige, prolonging this moment. Alisha exhaled a blissful sigh in response to Rose's gentle fingers. Rose experimentally scritched behind the princess's ear. Alisha practically purred, and Rose's entire body was lit on fire as she tried not to think about such a sound being illicited in other, more intimate contexts. Rose shook away such thoughts as best she could and went back to the task at hand. Braids were simple, right? Then a braid it would be.

The silence hung over Rose like an iron curtain. She didn't like being made so aware of her own racing heart. In a desperate attempt to lift it, she asked “Has anyone ever kissed you that you liked?”

Rose immediately regretted asking it.

She earned a surprised and flustered “huh?”

Rose observed Alisha's ears turning a vibrant shade of red.

“On the hand, I mean!” Rose swallowed. “You said it was usually gross but sometimes not. Was there anyone that, um, was more than just not gross?” As she reframed it, it occurred to her that it really wasn't a better question.

“O-oh.” Alisha nodded her understanding but didn't say anything further. Her framed slumped forward by a centimeter.

“Alisha?”

“There was one.” Alisha didn't sound happy to talk about it.

“You don't have to -”

“No, it's fine. He was a low-ranking lord who owned land out in the country. I was pleased at the time. He was my first kiss kiss too. But he dropped me like I was plagued once he learned that I wasn't next in line for the throne despite my title.”

“What a slimebag.” Rose made a gagging sound.

“Yes. I'm better off without a shallow tool like him.” Alisha turned to share a gleaming smile.

“Much better. Now stop stealing my lines and turn around so I can do your hair,” said Rose.

“Yes, ma'am!”

Braiding was not quite  _that_  simple it turned out as it had taken three tries to not look completely like it had been done by a child.

“Now, don't laugh,” Rose said as she held out the mirror. She was careful to not press herself into Alisha's back.

“It's wonderful.” Alisha flipped the braid over her shoulder to see its reflection and ran her hands along it.

“You can tell me the truth, you know.”

“It is the truth. Thank you.”

A terrible, comfortable silence settled between them. To Rose's joyous dismay, Alisha casually leaned into Rose, turning to lay her head on Rose's shoulder. The strap of Alisha's night gown had slid to reveal Alisha's delicate and perfect collarbone. Rose's entire being stilled except the relentless assault her heart raged on her rib cage.

Alisha heard Lailah and the others chattering in the hall as they approached the door. She gently slid off the bed, but not before one last soothing breath to savor Rose's unique scent mingled with the soft florals of soap. Alisha's eyes remained on the rug at the end of the bed as her feet touched it. Her fingers curled loosely around Rose's.

“I'm glad we could spend time together like this.” Alisha gave Rose's hand a squeeze, adding more softly, “Just the two of us.”

Those words struck Rose with a terrible impulse. She wondered if she should act on it. After all, what was life without risk. Boring, Rose liked to say. Being part of the Sparrowfeathers' had taught her that risks, particularly well-calculated ones, could pay off better than you possibly dreamed. Perhaps this one wasn't as carefully planned as other leaps she'd taken, but screw it, she wanted to.

Rose squeezed back.

Alisha then felt her hand being lifted and then Rose's soft mouth was pressed to Alisha's knuckles.

She remained hopelessly fixated on Rose's face, electricity firing from head to toe. Her own lips trembled with a question she didn't know how to articuleate Her free hand was clutched against her chest to keep her heart from beating out of its confines.

Then it was over and Alisha shivered as her hand slipped into cold, empty air. Rose's bright blue eyes tethered Alisha's gaze to hers.

“So which category do I fall into?” Rose asked.

Alisha blinked with helpless confusion. “Sorry?”

“Gross or not gross?” Rose fought to train her face into nonchalance.

The door then flew open, plugging Alisha's reply.

“My lovely ladies, am I in time for the pillow fight?” Zaveid spreads his arms wide. “Zaveid is ready!”

“Um, how does one partake in this Pil-Oh fight?” Alisha had a quizzical finger to her chin.

Oh how easily the topic changes, Rose lamented. She mentally shook it off.

“Allow me to demonstrate.” Rose grinned.

Her aim was superb. Zaveid roared with laughter as the pillow bounced off his face.

“Challenge accepted!” he cried.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is where this story begins to earn its M rating and things get a little darker. Just so you're aware. In case I forgot to mention in chapter one, it's rated for language, violence, and sexual content. (There is no sexual violence. I promise.) Also, OCs abound. This chapter and in future chapters. Some original characters are more important than others, but I will never focus on their perspectives more than necessary. They exist almost purely for plot purposes. The game didn't exactly give me a lot of side characters to work with within the system, so I had to improvise. With the airing of Tales of Zestiria the X and the fact I have not read the ToZ World Guide, this is bound to become blatantly non-canon-compliant very quickly, but I've already outlined a lot of this and have a plan so fuck it.
> 
> Thank you to drifbilim on AO3 for your corrections to chapter one!
> 
> One last thing: I refuse to believe, no matter what canon says, that Hyland's knights are walking around without armor under their shirts. Like who the hell says "yeah, I wear gauntlets and greaves but breastplates are for weebs"? I won't accept it. That is all.

The earthy brown tones of the Glaveind Basin's rock were washed out by the light of the moon, silver rays that splintered through the wisps of malevolence that dusted the atmosphere with an angry purple. The basin was a place steeped in malice and grief. Bitterness smothered the air like a thick moldy blanket. It should not have been so easy to cleanse the taint here, and yet Symonne could feel the energy of purification seeping into the earth, washing away the stains of malevolence bit by gritty bit. It would still be a long time before Sorey would come close cleansing someplace as damned as the basin, but his influence was still felt, perhaps because Camlenn was so close.

Symonne watched the hellions that prowled the basin from a ledge. Her knees tucked into her chest, and her arms settled loosely around them. So what if Sorey did purify the land? What was a hundred years of prosperity before the seeds of malevolence took root once more and plunged the world into another Age of Chaos. It was a cycle of futility. This world wasn't worth saving.

Symonne's fight with Alisha had left a chill that she felt in her very bones. The hairs on her arms were still raised. She hadn't been able to relax since the encounter. She flexed her fingers and stared numbly into her pale, empty hand. Had she reacted faster, would she have been able to break Alisha? She couldn't understand where Alisha's new resolve had come from. Her mouth set into a thin line. She'd just have to make a slight alteration in plans.

A shadow slid into place beside her its presence oozing threads of malevolence that glided harmlessly past her.

“You've gotten better at suppressing your domain,” Symonne commented. “Small as it is.”

“How kind of you to notice,” Lunarre cackled, his voice as sharp as the knives he carried. “All the better to finally catch my prey.”

“You can't have Alisha. Not yet,” Symonne warned him without a change of expression.

“What is this bullshit!” Lunarre screeched.

Symonne put a hand over her ear.

“I have been hunting her for,” Lunarre broke for a moment unable to recall just how long it had been, “for a long time. But there's always someone getting in the way! First it's Rose saying she's off-limits, then it's Sorey, and now it's you. I thought we were partners.”

“ 'Partners' is a bit of a stretch,” Symonne muttered, turning her head away from him.

“I heard that!”

Symonne sighed.

“I have a plan,” she said calmly. “And in order to execute my plan I can't have Alisha dead just yet. So control yourself until then. I'll let you know when you are free to shred her to your heart's content.”

“What exactly is this plan that requires Alisha to be alive?” Lunarre asked. “I don't see why I shouldn't just kill her on sight.”

Symonne gave him a sideways glance. “Like I'd trust you with that information.”

A pause.

“Does it have something to do with Sorey?”

“Reaching Sorey is no longer an option it seems, so I've had to make some adjustments.” Symonne let out a rigid breath. “What matters is that I got what I came to the Elaine Ruins for. You don't need to worry about the rest, unless I tell you to.”

Lunarre let out a high-pitched whine that turned into a hyena's laugh. “Whatever you say, _boss_. I can still find ways to have fun.”

…

The following morning was not kind to Alisha. For starters, she woke up on the floor. Her shoulder and hip sore where they have been pressed unforgivingly into the hard wood. It then took some finagling to untangle herself from the cocoon she'd made from stolen bed sheets. Alisha vaguely recalled shrinking toward the edge and making herself small as possible – a spare pillow clutched desperately to her chest. She'd been told by her fellow female knights about her habit of shuffling around still inside her bedroll and she didn't want to accidentally kick Rose in her sleep.

Rose lay uncovered in the center of the small double bed. Dawn light peeking through the curtains haloed the fair hairs risen by her goosebumps. Alisha hastily returned the stolen blankets to the sleeping Shepherd. Rose's red hair had been tugged loose from its clips and completely obscured her face. The tips of her hair shivered against her lips with every steady breath.

Alisha gently smoothed Rose's hair back so she wouldn't wake up with a mouthful of it. The princess knew she ought to set out straight to Ladylake. She was already late with her report from the detour to Camlenn. But she didn't see the harm in waiting until her companion awoke. She at least wanted to give her a proper farewell.

The second unkindness was a sharp rapping at the door right at that moment. Rose rolled away from the door, grumbling incoherently. It was awfully early for house keeping.

Without a conscious thought to it, Alisha ran her hands over her hair – how bad was it? Her braid from last night seemed mostly intact. Peering through the peephole, her a stone settled in her stomach. Alisha scrambled to throw a robe over her nightclothes and answer the door. The lock jumbled and clicked as she undid it.

In the hallway was a young boy she didn't know, but the blue uniform she recognized immediately – the servants uniform of the Hyland royal family. This boy was at least a few years younger than herself. He had been shifting listlessly from foot to foot, but when Alisha opened the door he hopped to attention. He bent at the waist, a near ninety-degree angle, and clumsily thrust a thin envelope towards her with both his hands.

The young servant swallowed and there was a hint of a tremor of his voice when he greeted her. “Your Highness.”

There was a sourness in the air about him. Within him she could see a tiny spark of malevolence. Alisha took the letter from him cautiously and he straightened. There was no addressee on the front of the envelope, and flipping over to see the back, Alisha saw that the wax seal lacked a coat of arms, or any other kind of symbol. It was a plain, rounded glob of red. Odd that a letter should lack both those things. Her fingernail slid beneath the top flap, primed to open it.

“Thank you...” Alisha tilted her head slightly.

The boy gasped in horror, bowing again. “Please forgive me, Your Highness! I have been impolite. My name is Terry, Your Highness.” His voice still trembling. It was rare for Alisha to be addressed so formally; she nearly waved her hand at him and said “there's no need to be so formal,” but stopped short. Everyone at least acknowledged her nobility with a “Lady Alisha” but the people who openly acknowledged her as a princess were few in number. Alisha was accustomed to it, and seeing as she had no desire to sit upon Hyland's throne it didn't really matter to her that she wasn't fully treated like a princess. But she also did not see any reason to correct him.

Alisha settled for “Thank you, Terry.”

“My instructions are wait for you to read the letter. You have my sincerest apologies should that inconvenience you,” Terry informed her, bowing yet again.

“Not at all,” Alisha assured him with a soft smile. “I was intending to read it right away, regardless.”

Alisha softly peeled open the envelope, its top flap tearing quietly away from the wax. It was a single sheet of stationary folded into thirds. As she straightened the paper to read, she could feel two pairs of eyes – one just below her shoulder, and the other hovering over her. Alisha wanted to shoo them away, but with Terry watching, she was forced to ignore them.

_Dearest cousin-in-law,_

_I hope this letter finds you well, and I hope my first words with you in some years are forgiven for asking you a favor._

_My beloved son, your cousin, His Highness Prince Reynold has been missing for almost two days. This may not seem like cause for alarm, however, he has not given anyone the slightest hint as to where he may have gone. I am beside myself with worry. Reynold never fails to return from hunting by nightfall, and he has always informed me anytime he must leave for an extended period. It is so unlike him to disappear like this._

_I would like to ask most humbly that you investigate personally. I hesitate to formally enlist the services of the Royal Guard because I fear they will not treat their task with the delicacy it requires, leading to speculative gossip that may tarnish His Highness' good reputation, and that of the entire family. You are an honest girl with firm principles and I singly trust you to investigate. I have the utmost faith you will handle the investigation professionally, and with the appropriate sensitivity to this potentially scandalous predicament. Please come to our estate as quickly as possible. I apologize for not asking in person, but I have no excuse to visit Lastonbell and do not wish to raise anyone's suspicions. I fear what may befall this country should our young heir be missing or involved in some scandal._

_We have now reached the end of this correspondence. Kindly destroy it and the envelope, leaving no trace of this communication. Terry, the young man I have sent to deliver this letter to you, will have a horse ready for you to take you to our estate. Please hurry._

_Sincerely and gratefully yours,_

_Lady Edith Hyland_

“Talk about ominous,” Zaveid whistled.

Alisha took a deep inhale and began tearing the letter and envelope in pieces too small to put back together. She could ask Lailah to burn it once Terry was out of sight. She let the breath out slowly as she let the last shreds fluttered from her fingers into the wicker waste bin nearby. Then she met Terry's eye, giving him a curt nod.

“All right,” she said. “I will do what I can. I'll meet you at the east gate. I need to pack my things and get dressed.”

“Of course. Thank you very much, Your Highness.” Terry bowed again, his voice had recovered a small amount of steadiness. Just like that the spark was gone. “We are in your debt.”

He turned to leave, but Alisha stopped him.

“Hold on, if this is supposed to be discreet, you can't go back out like that,” Alisha told him. “However unlikely, someone in Rolance may recognize your uniform and wonder what business a lone servant of the Hyland royal family has in Lastonbell. It'd best if you covered up.”

She disappeared into the room and returned with a hooded cloak. “Here, put this on.”

Terry nodded and threw it on. He then scurried down the hall. Alisha shut the door with a small click.

“While a _perfectly reasonable_ request and all, you do realize this is a trap, don't you?” Edna looked at Alisha with something like pity, but not quite.

“Rose is still sleeping--!” Alisha waved her hands, like she was trying muffle their voices by pressing down on the air.

She peered behind them at Rose. It was too late. Rose was already in the process of sitting up. She turned to cast a drowsy expression at Alisha, her mouth angled into a lazy quarter of a smile.

“Keeping secrets, are we? After all we just went through, and the crap you gave me?” she said.

“Ah, no!” Alisha's head whipped between Edna and Zaveid, wordlessly seeking backup. Zaveid shrugged helpfully. Edna's was unabashedly amused.

“I just didn't want to wake you,” said Alisha.

“ _Relax,_ ” Rose chuckled, soft and warm.

She crawled over so she could sit on the edge while facing Alisha.

“I'm teasing,” Rose said. “And you didn't wake me. I've been awake. So what was in the letter?”

Alisha tried not to make her relief apparent. She straightened her back.

“I've received word from my cousin, Lady Edith, that her son, Prince Reynold, has gone missing. Lady Edith has requested I alone investigate, rather than making an official statement to the guard, because she wants to keep the matter private as much as she can. In case there is a scandal, she'd rather keep it within the family.”

“Well, damn.” Rose clicked her tongue. “That does sound like a trap.”

Zaveid sported a pitying grin, saying “Really – 'keep it private'? The whole household would know by now. That doesn't make it much of a secret.”

“The rest of the staff could have been lied to,” said Edna.

“It's been...several years since I have visited His Highness's estate. I do remember his staff being fond of him. I can also see them being loyal enough to stay temporarily silent at Lady Edith's request,” said Alisha. “But I agree it is more likely they don't know the full truth. We won't know until we visit.”

“One thing I don't get is why 'missing' for only two days is such a big deal,” said Mikleo.

He and Lailah materializing at the foot of the bed.

“ 'One thing' out of many, I'm sure,” Edna quipped.

Mikleo shot her a sharp look, to which she smirked in response.

“From what I hear, Prince Reynold is a bit of a homebody. He doesn't usually leave the house,” Alisha said, holding a hand to her chin. “And I've also heart that he never stays out past dinner when he goes hunting.”

“I wonder if he could have simply gotten lost while hunting. Or hurt,” Lailah said.

“Does he hunt alone?” Rose asked, leaning back on her hands.

“That I don't know,” Alisha replied. “But I don't think so.”

“You mention his 'estate' – does Prince Reynold not live at the castle?” Mikleo asked.

Alisha shook her head. “It's true that the ruling family lives in the castle. Usually. His Highness Guerron, the eldest of the two princes, has been missing ever since he headed an expedition to cross the ocean in search of new continents. That was over ten years ago. He's been officially declared MIA. When His Majesty passed, Prince Reynold was too young to ascend, which is why Uncle Bartlow was acting as regent until His Highness reached twenty years old. Lady Edith thought it would be best for His Highness, if he weren't closer to my...unsavory uncle than was strictly necessary.” Alisha's eyes dulled. “But I guess there's a chance now Prince Reynold may not live to sit on the throne...and Uncle Bartlow is also dead as of a few months ago.”

Zaveid scratched at his stubble. “You think it may not be a coincidence.”

“It's too soon to think anything,” Alisha corrected him. “But I'm not discounting the possibility.”

“We should also not discount the possibility that this is a trap.” Rose pressed her face into one hand. Then she added, grumbling “It's too early in the morning for this shit.”

“So where's this estate?” Edna wanted to know.

“It's near Marlind,” Alisha answered.

“And you plan on going?” Mikleo turned to her, his gaze solid.

“I get the feeling I don't have a choice.” Alisha clenched a fist.

“After all, were traps not made for walking into?” Zaveid grinned like a fool, spreading his arms wide.

Alisha gave him a wry smile. “I suppose that's one way to look at it.”

“However, I can't let you go alone, my lovely princess. It's too dangerous,” Zaveid said.

“And I can't let you go alone with him. It's too dangerous,” Edna said.

“Thank you. Both of you.” Alisha gave a small nod to each of them.

“I guess that settles it then.” Rose stretched out a foot and curled her toes. The joints cracked loudly.

“We'll split up here,” Rose continued. “Alisha, Edna, and Zaveid go to Prince Reynold's home; Lailah, Mikleo, and I stay in Lastonbell and try to gather intel on these extremists. If left to their own devices they may finally get that war they so desperately want. If we can get any decent leads, I'll rally the crew over on this side of the border so I can join you in Ladylake where you can fill me in on what you find.”

Alisha tensed. “But if we split up...” ... _then what?_

“The Squire pact should remain intact, but if you leave Rose's domain, then you will no longer share Resonance with Rose,” Lailah explained.

“And you'll no longer be able to see us,” said Edna.

Lailah confirmed the other seraph's statement with a nod.

“So what if we're invisible,” Zaveid scoffed and threw his arms up. “I'll still be by you're side, Alisha. Know that to be true, even though you can't see me – even though I will be naught but a fly on your wall.”

“God, why does everything that spews from your face hole have to be so creepy and gross?” Edna made a disgusted noise.

“Of course by 'face hole' you really mean my utterly gorgeous mouth.”

“You give yourself far too much credit.”

“I heard that, Mickey-boy!”

Zaveid whirled on Mikleo, who was doing a very poor job of hiding his smirk.

“Now, now, everyone,” Lailah said in her best mom-tone.

“Yes, let's leave so Rose and Alisha can get dressed,” Mikleo said as he grabbed Zaveid by the arm and led him out into the hall.

Alisha turned to face Edna. “If I'm traveling by horse, how will you and Zaveid follow?”

“As long as you're within Rose's domain, you are a second vessel we Prime and Sub Lords can use,” Lailah informed her.

“And if you do end up leaving Rose's domain, Zaveid is a wind seraph,” said Edna. “We'll be able to keep up.”

“All right then,” said Alisha.

She sorted through her bags. Her hand went straight for her pink tunic that was folded neatly on top. She hesitated, seeing the blue spare she kept beneath it. She was very fond of pink, but it also made her stand out. She was the only knight who wore pink, or shorts for the matter. Her usual side ponytail might also be a problem; the braid would have to stay until she was done with her investigation.

She couldn't find any full-length leggings however and was forced to stick with her shorts. She buckled her chest piece with practiced haste, and pulled the blue tunic on over it. When Alisha was dressed and halfway out the door, she paused with her hand still on the handle.

“Oh, I almost forgot. I never answered your question last night.”

“Hmm?” Rose raised her eyebrows.

Alisha smiled at her. “Not gross.”

“Ah, um,” Rose grappled uncomfortably for a reply. She'd mostly meant the question as the joke, but somehow upon hearing the answer, it felt like maybe it hadn't been. “I guess, uh, that's a good thing then.”

“What's not gross?” Zaveid prodded from the hallway.

“Ketchup and eggs. Now leave already. The good lady is waiting.” Rose shooed them out the door.

Once Alisha had left, Rose turned to her two remaining companions.

“We should review what we know,” she said.

“Which isn’t a whole lot,” said Mikleo.

“That is true, but we have to start somewhere.”

“Alisha was attacked in Marlind as well as Lastonbell,” Lailah said. “When we followed that hellion extremist into the Elaine Ruins we ran into Symonne.”

“Who was obviously trying to hellionize Alisha by forcing her to relive Maltron’s betrayal,” Rose added.

Mikleo brought a hand to his chin. “But there wasn’t any hideout of extremists. Though there was a lot of malevolence.”

“The guy we followed could have just been an illusion, a trap she planted. Symonne’s good at that.”

“I don’t know.” Lailah tilted her head, her mouth twisting sadly. “The malevolence coming from him felt very real.”

“He could have been manipulated by Symonne,” Mikleo suggested.

“There are too many what-ifs,” Rose groaned. “I think the first order of business needs to be figuring out whether or not there is actually a cell of revolutionaries hiding out in the city. The second, is getting the Scattered Bones mobilized to gather intel on them if it exists.”

“How do you suggest we start looking?” Mikleo asked.

“That’s a very good question.” Rose folded her arms across her chest. “We _tried_ luring them out of hiding, but I think what we ultimately ended up doing was making ourselves easy prey for Symonne. The whole extremist thing could have been a setup we walked right into. This time, if we’re going to investigate, we’re going to have to do so quietly. But we don’t have any leads; we’ll be starting from scratch. We need some kind of vantage point where we can get a feel for different parts of the city.”

Lailah hummed thoughtfully. “I think I have an idea.”

…

When they'd cleared the forest, with its rocks and large tree roots, and reached the basin's relatively level terrain, Terry urged his horse into a canter and Alisha followed suit. The cloak he'd borrowed billowed out behind him and the hood had fallen. Though it was hard to see his body past the mass of fabric, his seat and elbows seemed a little tense to Alisha. Somewhere along the way, as they passed Marlind, she lost contact with Edna and Zaveid.

Everything was just as Alisha remembered the last time she'd been to Reynold's. The manor itself was a sprawling affair, two massive wings stretched out on either side of a central portion with a high steepled top. These wings had corners, bringing forward two arms towards the gate that embraced a gravel path for coaches that circled a tall fountain. Around the fountain and the outer edges of the path were rows of flowers that hadn't quite bloomed yet.

As they drew up to the front door, Alisha noticed the grounds were empty as far as she could see. The only other person was Terry. He dropped his stirrups and swung his leg over for a wobbly dismount.

“A bit out of practice,” he laughed nervously and held out his hand for Alisha's reins.

Alisha passed the reins to the boy and with her superior upper body strength, she eased herself onto the ground.

“Princess Alisha, I am pleased and honored you were able to come,” said a woman who was standing just outside the front door.

Alisha turned upon hearing her name.

The woman's bronze hair was pulled into a severe bun. Her uniform was similar to Terry's - navy with white trim - however instead of trousers, she wore a skirt that stopped just above the ankle. She wore an expression that was as tight as her bun.

“I am Hilda, Chief Steward,” said the woman, lifting herself from a deep bow. Her brown eyes regarded Alisha from behind thin-framed glasses. “My son will see to your things. Why don't you come inside?”

Alisha watched Terry walk away with a horse in either hand. Her belongings were still tied to the saddle, including her glaive. He also still wearing her cloak. Alisha nodded and followed Hilda inside. She did not recognize this woman by her face but the name sounded vaguely familiar, like she had been serving the family for years. Alisha had a lot of questions, but didn't know where to begin. Something about the whole situation felt off, but she wasn't quite able to place a finger on it. She wished she could consult with Zaveid or Edna. She hoped they were able to catch up.

Hilda took her into a drawing room just off the foyer that had a second door on the opposite wall. She made sure both doors were closed and the curtains were drawn before she made her way over to one of the couches next to a small glass table that was supporting a tea tray. The sun still slipped in through a slit between curtains, drawing a sliver of gold across Alisha's lap.

Hilda lifted the teapot, the spout poised over one of the cups. “Tea, Your Highness?”

“Thank you.”

Hilda began pouring. Alisha watched the way steam curled off the stream of tea as it traveled from the pot into the cup. It looked too hot to drink, so she just held the cup and saucer in her lap, one finger looped loosely around the handle.

“It might save me from asking stupid questions if you could fill me in on what's going on?” Alisha gave her a sympathetic smile. “Though, I must ask, where is Lady Edith?”

“I fear my lady will not be joining us,” said Hilda, casting a rueful glance at the portrait at the end of the room behind Alisha. “I was instructed to greet you in her stead. Since accepting that His Highness is truly missing, she has mostly confined herself to her chambers. She has us bring her meals up for her instead of taking them in the dining room. She remains concerned that with the fragile state of Hyland, having lost its regent and still sore from the battle with Rolance, His Highness' disappearance may not be an accident. She trusts family more than she trusts the guard as a whole, which is why she called on you personally to investigate.”

Alisha opened her mouth to humble her detective skills and encourage Lady Edith to seek aide from the full force of the Guard – but she was not naïve enough to believe the Guard was without its kickbacks and corruption, so she promptly closed it.

“I am not sure of how much use I can be to you,” she said instead. “I am not just saying this to be humble, I would love to – and I will – do everything in my power to help, but I do believe a professional detective would be better suited.”

“As I said before, Lady Edith trusts you and your integrity more than the Royal Guard or any private detective.”

Alisha gripped the small plate she held, her thumb pressing into the hard edge. She took a tiny sip of her tea. It was very good. “I will do my best.”

“That is all she asks.”

Alisha gave Hilda a small nod. She had not been close to Reynold by any stretch of the word, but she pitied him and his household.

“We do not know His Highness is dead for certain,” Hilda continued. “He is missing. He went hunting two days ago and has not returned yet. He has never failed to be back by sundown before. He says he hates sleeping on the ground, and tripping over things in the dark.

“If you'll forgive my being absolutely frank with you, you helped stop a war, Your Highness, and I believe you did so for honorable reasons and not because you stood to gain anything from it. You are an honest woman, who will not hide or twist whatever dirt you may uncover once you start digging into the matter of Prince Reynold's disappearance. I firmly believe that.

“If you do accept the request to investigate, I ask you be as discrete as possible. We are doing our best to confine knowledge of my master's disappearance to within the household. In Lady Edith's state she is far too fragile to handle the fallout from it.”

“That makes sense. I understand,” said Alisha.

“So will you help us? You will be paid and we still would be in your debt.”

“I will do it, but not so Lady Edith or you owe me a favor.”

Hilda's cup clinked against the saucer as she placed them on the table and stood so she could bow properly. “Thank you, Your Highness.”

The whole situation was suspect. Alisha was acutely aware of just how unstable Hyland's political climate was these days. Their regent, Bartlow, was dead, Mathias was resigning, and now either Prince Reynold had fallen prey to scheming or she herself was walking right into a trap. Perhaps both. She kept these thoughts to herself. She was still struggling to trust after Maltran, but maybe that was a good thing in some ways.

Hilda did not offer the warm, relieved smile Alisha had expected. If anything, she looked determined.

“You will want to speak to Everette,” said Hilda, walking over to the door to the foyer. “He is in charge of organizing the search and has been on many hunts with my lord in the past. Come, I shall take you to him. He is likely at the stables.”

Hyland did not automatically appoint the first-born child of their monarch as the next ruler. It was a sort of default, but a monarch could appoint whomever they wished within the royal bloodline as their successor. Several years ago, the king had died of pneumonia without naming his successor, and Chancellor Bartlow, nephew to the king, rose to power in Prince Guerron's absence.

The first son of the late king was informally considered lost at sea, having funded and headed a fool's expedition to see if there were inhabited continents like Glenwood elsewhere in the world. He'd been gone for more than ten years. Theoretically, Reynold should have ascended the throne as the late king's second-born child. But Reynold was still young, an irresponsible person, and sometimes cruel even. It was fortunate Reynold had no interest in overseeing an entire country, yet his apathy was also a curse – the one that appointed corrupt Chancellor Bartlow as head of state for as long as Reynold could have an excuse for running away from his responsibilities.

Alisha knew it was a wasted effort to speculate without completing an investigation in Reynold's disappearance, so she tried tuck her concerns away into a far corner of her mind – ready to be retrieved when they turned out to be justified.

“Was anyone with Prince Reynold when he left?” Alisha asked as they walked down a dirt path that led around the back of the house. “Did he leave on foot?”

Hilda's steps slowed, ultimately stopping to turn and look Alisha in the eye. “It was a private hunt, but two bodyguards did accompany him. They have not returned either.”

So they are either 'missing' as well, or are responsible, Alisha thought. She decided not to share her thinking with Hilda even though she strongly suspected the stewardess had entertained the same thoughts at some point or another.

“To answer your other question, Prince Reynold went out on horseback.” Hilda began walking again, weaving them between high fences and large fields where horses were grazing on lush grass.

It was only a short ways more until the two women reached the stable.

They caught Everette just outside the barn door, reviewing orders with a small handful of people. Only one of them was a guard. The rest looked like ordinary servants. They were all equipped with a fair-sized satchel, presumably filled with first-aid equipment. Alisha wondered at whether or not anyone other than the guard (and perhaps Everette himself) actually knew first aid protocols.

Hilda delayed the introductions until the search team had departed. Everette was a man who was as grey as any man could be. His hair, eyes, beard – all grey, and his skin was well-acquainted with the sun. He was leaning over a table blanketed by papers.

“Princess Alisha, this is Everette, our stable master,” Hilda introduced them. “I'll leave the rest to you, Everette.”

He gave her a curt nod.

Hilda bowed once and left the way they had come.

Everette pushed himself away from the table, then dipped his waist forward. “Your help is greatly appreciated, Your Highness.”

Unsure how to reply, Alisha nodded. “Have you any leads?”

“Sadly, no. If you look at the map,” Everett beckoned her to join him at the table, “you can see where we've already searched.”

The table looked collapsible, like it had been set up specifically for this purpose - which it probably had. The papers that Alisha had seen from a distance now revealed themselves to be the maps Everette had referred to. Two of them were open, one on top of the other. The one underneath was quite smaller than the other and covered in X's. From the topography, Alisha identified it as a map of the Falkwin Hillside. The map on top had thin black lines sectioning the region into quadrants. Only a few of the squares had X's through them. She couldn't tell at a glance what the map was of, but she guessed it was a map of the forest north of Reynold's estate.

“This,” the elder man said, tapping the bottom map, “is the Falkwin Hillside. We can confirm at this point that he is not there. We're searched every quadrant. We didn't wander too close to Marlind, for discretion's sake, but there weren't any trails or leads from the area that suggested Prince Reynold or his company had gone in that direction. This,” he was now tapping the top map, “is the forests surrounding us on the north and east. We think he got lost somewhere in these woods and we've been focusing all our efforts on scouting that area.”

Alisha clutched an arm behind her back. “Wouldn't someone have been able to tell you which direction Prince Reynold had gone?”

Everette sighed, his shoulders and eyelids drooping. “If His Highness were the sort to warn people before running off on one of his adventures, perhaps. But apparently, 'it ruins all the fun.' No one saw him leave.”

Alisha stared past Everette into the rows of empty stalls in the barn behind him.

“Did any of his horses or hounds come back on their own?” Alisha asked, thinking maybe she could start looking from the direction they'd returned from.

“No hounds, and no horses have come back.”

So it really was a blind search.

“To be completely honest, I've never been part of a search and rescue of this scale,” Alisha confessed.

Everette's sleet-grey eyes narrowed ever-so-slightly at her admission. Alisha gripped her arm just a little bit harder.

“If I may ask, Your Highness, have you ever navigated the wilderness by yourself?”

“Yes, many times. I've just never done so with the goal of finding a lost person. I have some basic tracking training, but I've never had to employ it in the woods before.”

Everette's face relaxed then, and Alisha just managed to contain her relief.

“Good, because I don't have anyone to send with you at the moment.”

“Tell me how this works then? From the top.” Alisha gave him what she hoped was a small yet eager-to-learn smile.

“Right.” Everette pulled up an ordinary sheet of paper with a list of quadrant IDs, starting at A1. The end was on another page beneath it. “So this here is the list of quadrants on this map of the forest. The ones you see with the check mark next to it mean that it is currently being searched. Anything crossed out means it's been searched at least twice. Since nothing was found, we put a big mark on the map. Make sense?”

“Yes.”

“These have yet to be searched.” Everette gestured to several IDs with blanks next to them. “Let's see... this one's a good one. Not too far off.”

Alisha committed where he was pointing to memory: F5.

“Now if you'll excuse me for a moment, Your Highness.”

Alisha waited while Everette disappeared into the dark shadows further in the barn. He returned with a familiar cloak in his hand, and her travel bag and glaive slung over one shoulder. He carefully set her things on the table.

Alisha took the cloak and returned it to her bag right away, trading it for a compass on a string that she tied around her neck then tucked into her tunic. She had Everette direct her to a pump to refill her water skin.

Alisha made her way over to the pump. She thought with some amusement most nobles would cringe at the thought of sharing plumbing used to water horses, but the water that poured from the spigot was clear and clean. She filled her water skin until it was near overflowing, and screwed the cap on as tight as it would go. She clipped it onto a loop on her bag.

Judging by the map scale and her average walking speed, Alisha estimated she'd be in her assigned quadrant between 40 and 50 minutes from now. When she was about 10 minutes in she paused. She glanced around her, saw no one else.

“One thing that doesn't make sense is why Lady Edith thinks I, a single person, will make a such a difference when she already has her staff looking for him,” she whispered.

There was a rustling beside her. A tree branch bobbed up and down in the still air. Alisha smiled. It looked like Edna and Zaveid had caught up, much to her relief. The longer she spent in the woods, the more the fear that there was a plot grew. She didn't want it to be true, but she knew no amount of wishing would change things if it were. She had no choice but to press on.

The best word to describe the wood behind Reynold's estate was green. The canopy was green, the brown leaves on the ground were obscured by underbrush that was a vivid, lively green. The trunks of trees were speckled with green lichen. She tried to keep here eyes peeled for prints, any other signs a horse or human had come through: horse feces, broken branches, overturned rocks.

She combed the woods for hours, well into the late afternoon, stopping once down some rations she always carried with her. Just as she was beginning to wonder if she was really cut out for this, she heard a panicked shriek. She charged in its direction. The call for help came again, clear above the crunching leaves under her hurried feet. A path in the uncharted wilds revealed itself to Alisha under the lens of adrenaline. She knew without a second thought where it was safe to put her feet to avoid tripping.The woods whizzed past her, her greaves protecting her feet from the bramble that clawed at her.

She was getting closer, nearly upon them when the yelling stopped. Could it be the prince?

Someone erupted from a wall of brush and crashed into Alisha – would have knock her over if she'd not pivoted on her heel. She redirected the force of his fall past her, then grabbed him by the collar to catch him before planting his face into the dirt. His brown eyes were wild with fright, and his breathing came in haggard gasps. He was wearing a servant's uniform. He must have been a member of one of the search parties sent to find Reynold.

Before Alisha had a chance to question him, her answer came thundering through the trees. Its leathery skin was the color of autumn leaves, and it had large wings tucked tight against its back. A wyvern. She threw her bag to the side, and whipped the sheath from her glaive. She didn't know if she could handle one all her own. She shook away her doubts, remembering she was not alone.

“Run!” she shouted. She hoped the rest of his party had safely scattered.

She didn't have time to make sure he obeyed. The beast's claws, bigger than her head, groped for her. She evaded with a well-practiced side step, but her foot caught as she landed. She was caught by an invisible force that righted her – probably Zaveid.

“Thanks. It's not a hellion, is it?” Alisha shouted.

The wyvern swiped at her again, she rolled to the side. A rectangle of hard rock rocketed upward, cracking against the wyvern's jaw. Of course Edna nor Zaveid had any way to reply while fending the creature off. Alisha would have to trust they would stop her from dealing the finishing blow if it could be purified. She tried not to think of the possibility that the prince had become a wyvern hellion.

Alisha dropped into a low stance. The wyvern lurched forward and closed its monstrous jaws on air. She slid beneath it and thrust her glaive upwards through the soft flesh of the creature's lower palette. Blood gushed from the wound, drenching Alisha's shoulder in warm crimson fluid. It splattered against the side of her face. The wyvern screamed and nearly rent the glaive from Alisha's grasp with the force of its retreat. Instead, she was dragged. She twisted and rolled onto her back, felt the wind safely pinning her against the ground, and planted her feet against the beast's jaw, freeing her glaive with all the strength she could muster.

Alisha then leapt to her feet, her heart hammering loudly in her chest. For moment she could hear nothing but the rush of adrenaline in her ears. Her opponent was shaking. She could see where her glaive had come through the other side, the hole itself hidden beneath a flowing river of blood. Her weapon had exited towards the middle of the snout. She'd been way off. Blood dripped from the beast's mouth, slithering between its razor teeth, from the hole she'd pierced in its tongue. The earth beneath it was red and moist.

It was a stare down. The wyvern regarded her with cautious fury. She'd always been taught to fight large monsters defensively. Being reckless against something so obviously stronger was like having a death wish. Alisha waited for the creature's next move.

The wyvern's chest fell and rose with labored breaths. The breath that escaped its mouth was a gust of rancid heat. Alisha crinkled her nose. Perspiration beaded along her hairline, her temples. Loose hair clung to her face and sweat trickled down her brow. She could see the glimmer of a small flame ignite in the back of the wyvern's throat. It closed its mouth, building the flame. Smoke poured from its nostrils. She readied herself to dive away. A glimpse of its teeth and Alisha rolled aside.

But no flames pursued her or scorched the place she had been. The blood on the top of the large reptile's snout was now dry and cracked, and the only thing that came out from its mouth was smoke. The bleeding had stopped. Did it just cauterize its own wounds? Alisha had never heard of such a thing. She was beginning to feel a little guilty for having to slay such an intelligent and rare beast. But she couldn't let it go. Not if it was terrorizing humans.

Edna provided an opening, a rock the size of her head went flying into the wyvern's skull. The wyvern hissed and turned its head toward its left, away from Alisha, to breathe a thin stream of fire in the direction from which the rock had come.

Alisha charged. She feinted to the wyvern's right. It gave up momentarily on Edna to swipe at Alisha. Perfect. She rolled to its left side, where the side where the wyvern's weight was balanced and buried the full blade of her weapon into the wyvern's shoulder. With one leg in the air, and the other injured, the wyvern stumbled forward, thudding hard against the ground. It had lost its balance briefly but it was just long enough. Using her glaive as a makeshift vaulting pole, Alisha jumped – aided by Zaveid's wind – and swung herself onto the wyvern's back.

The wyvern shimmied, and tried to her crush against a tree. She cried out on impact, but she kept the grip on her polearm tight and stayed low on its back. She wrenched her weapon around in a jagged circle, widening the gash. More crimson fell onto the soil. The wyvern wailed in agony and crumpled forward as if bound. Zaveid's artes? Alisha didn't question it. She yanked the glaive out and raised it high with both hands. She knew it was futile to attempt to penetrate its skull to reach the brain. Wyvern bone was incredibly dense.

Alisha used the valleys between the dorsal ridges along the wyvern's vertebrae as a guide. And then she thrust her weapon downwards with all her weight and strength. The blade slid between the monster's ribs, finding home somewhere deep within. She knew right away she'd missed the heart. But the wyvern's cry came strangled by the fountain of blood bubbling from its punctured lung. She'd still won.

Alisha gave her glaive a good twist for some extra damage. The wyvern still had some fight left, though. Its renewed raving flung Alisha off before she could free her weapon. She tucked and rolled into her shoulder. Small rocks and sharp twigs bit into the exposed flesh of her thighs.

She scrambled to her feet just as the wyvern had begun to charge her. She stepped out of the way. The wyvern gave chase again. Wind and earth artes consistently worked to throw it off course. And so they danced for several minutes, until the wyvern finally collapsed on its side, having drowned in its own blood.

That's some endurance, Alisha marveled. On slightly unsteady legs, she walked to where the slain monster lay, and retrieved her glaive. It was a weight off her when the wyvern did not change into something else, as a hellion would change to its original form upon death.

She retrieved her bag and drank all her remaining water in one go. She wiped the water dripping down her chin with her collar, smearing the wyvern blood on her face. She stared at the body and heaved a sigh, dreading what she had to do to be thorough. Though uncommon, the beasts have been known to eat humans.

Alisha made her way over to the body saying, “Today has just been a day full of firsts. My first search and rescue, my first time gutting a wyvern. I wonder if it lived around here, but I don't think wyverns usually live in forests... Somewhere nearby perhaps?”

She wished she could hear the seraphim's thoughts.

With their invisible help, she rolled the large reptile onto its side. Alisha knelt down and made a long incision, careful not to cut too deep. She sliced open its bulging stomach. She then set her glaive on the ground. She reached inside and widened the opening with her hands. She felt a large mass both hard and soft through her gloves. She yanked it free with a nasty squelching sound.

It was Reynold's severed torso. Protected by armor, he had not been digested beyond recognition yet, but one side of his face was badly corroded. His brain had been almost completely dissolved. Parts of his brain stem were still visible through the melted opening to his skull. Juices dripped down the walls of his skull, pooling a little at his cervix. Deeper in the stomach and in significantly worse condition, she retrieved what remained of his lower half.

Reynold's clothes were all but gone, worn down by powerful acid. His skin was melting off in some places too. Both halves of his body were marred by gashed from the wyvern's claws.

There was more. An armored leg that didn't belong to Reynold, wearing greaves. So it had also killed his escort. Or, one of them at least. She couldn't know for sure but she suspected the other was dead too, and there just wasn't room enough in the wyvern's gut for all three of them. It was impressive how it was still able to fight on such a full stomach, really.

Alishapinched the bridge of her nose and squeezed her eyes closed. She had never been fond of Reynold – quite the opposite, in fact – but it was still hard to see him like this. She didn't want to think of how he'd been torn in two, how he'd no doubt continued to crawl away in unimaginable agony before the wyvern finally swallowed the rest of him.

She let out a haggard breath. She would need to report this to Lady Edith and have people come out to collect the body. She would suggest a continued search for the missing guards' bodies as well. However remote, the possibility that at least one still lived remained. Regardless, it was good to confirm it. But daylight was waning and trekking through the woods at night was too dangerous.

She wiped down her weapon with a cloth from her bag, then retrieved her sheath and covered her blade before heading back.

When Alisha returned to Reynold's estate, Everette was no longer at the stables, so she went straight to the manor itself. Hilda greeted her at the door, but did not welcome her inside.

“You have news?” Hilda prompted, taking in Alisha's bruised state, covered in blood – mostly belonging to the wyvern.

“Yes, I found Prince Reynold.” Alisha took a deep breath. “He was... swallowed by a wyvern. I'm sorry. There was also an armored leg that perhaps belonged to one of his guards, but there was nothing else human in the beast's stomach. More than that, I cannot tell you and,” she cast a glance at the orange and purple sky over the horizon, “it has grown too dark to continue. I can pick up the investigation again first light tomorrow morning.”

Hilda bowed. “You have done more than enough. We will take it from here. I will inform Lady Edith.”

“Oh,” Alisha's brow rose, “...all right. But I expected to be the one to deliver my findings.”

“My lady will not take the news well. As such in her grief she may take out her frustrations on the messenger or the staff. Being very familiar with her, having served her for years, I aimed to deliver the bad news in the gentlest way possible.”

“I understand, but I think it would only be proper for me to tell Lady Edith personally, having seen Prince Reynold myself.”

“The men we send out to collect his remains will be able to confirm it just as well.”

“I insist. You can tell me how I should deliver the news, but I ought to be the one who delivers it.”

Hilda closed her eyes and pressed two fingers to her temple like she was willing away a migraine. “Very well, but you'll have to clean up first. Blood makes her faint.”

Alisha took the time to thoroughly clean her armor and polearm. Leaving blood on it for too long would cause it to rust. She threw on a clean pink tunic and met back with Hilda who led her up a curved stairway in the foyer and guided her down the left corridor.

“The best advice I can give is to not give her time to hate the messenger. In fact, maybe it is best she hates you and not us for telling her her son is dead,” said Hilda, stopping outside Edith's bedchamber. “Make it quick.”

“Right.”

“Just a moment.” Hilda knocked softly three times.

No sound came from within.

Hilda began turning the knob, saying, “I'm coming in, Mistress.”

Edith was reclining on a chaislounge in a wide antechamber. He long, sleek black hair was splayed out around her, hanging over the sides of the chair, over the back and spilling into the seat. She wore a loose black robe. When Hilda and Alisha entered, Edith's head lolled to one side, regarding them with puffy, half-lidded eyes and a vacant expression.

“I present Her Highness, Alisha Diphda,” Hilda told her. “She has news for you.”

Alisha stepped forward. “Lady Edith, it has been a while. I apologize that our first reunion in such a long time is under these circumstances, but I found your missing son, Prince Reynold. His Highness was swallowed by a wyvern. He is... no longer with us. I'm truly sorry. You have my condolences.”

Edith straightened her neck but her face did not change and her only reply was to say, “...I see. Thank you.”

Her glassy gaze pierced Alisha's, prickling the hairs on the back of her neck.

“We should leave,” Hilda whispered.

Alisha gave Edith a respectful nod and left the poor woman to mourn. Hilda led her back to the front door.

“Thank you for all that you've done. You have done us a great service.” Hilda reached into a skirt pocket and pulled out a small pouch of coins which she placed in Alisha's palm. “That's 5,000 gald. We'll take it from here.”

Alisha wanted to refuse, it didn't feel right. But it would also be rude to refuse such generosity.

“You're paying me?” Alisha took the coin purse and tied it to a belt she wore beneath her tunic.

“Yes, it was a private job after all. It would be unthinkable to not pay you.”

“Thank you.” Alisha gave her the tiniest of smiles.

“We can lend you a horse if you'd like,” said Hilda. She adjusted her glasses.

“Thank you, but I'll be fine on foot.”

“All right. I hope you'll keep the news to yourself. We are not yet ready to announce my lord's passing to the outside world. The household, Lady Edith especially, will want some time to grieve privately.”

“Of course,” Alisha agreed.

“Thank you again. Take care, Your Highness.” Hilda bowed.

“You as well.”

By now the sun was nothing more than a crescent sinking into the earth. Alisha considered going straight to Ladylake. She'd been delayed long enough. But Marlind was much closer and she was sure she could not reach the capital by nightfall. She went back and forth between her options all the way to the end of the road from the manor where she was forced to make a decision. Fighting the wyvern had been exhausting, but... she had responsibilities.

“Marlind, it is,” she said softly so her seraphim companions could hear, in case they were still with her. She had no idea. Some Squire, being unable to see seraphim on her own.

With a defeated sigh, Alisha set off in the direction of Marlind. She'd rent a horse first thing in the morning and beg forgiveness when she did finally get back. The sun had bid farewell to the sky by the time Alisha reached the small town.

Alisha hoped there'd be rooms available at the inn. Since the plague had died down and efforts to restore the museum were underway, Marlind had started picking up a lot more traffic. As luck would have it there was a single vacancy.

“Here you are, ma'am,” said the innkeeper, who dropped a key into Alisha's open hand. “Down the hall, first door on the right.”

“Thanks.”

Alisha started, then suddenly turned around. She adjusted her heavy bag.

“Is there anyone by the name 'Rose' staying here, do you know?” she asked.

“Hold on just a minute.” The innkeeper flipped through a ledger on the desk, scanning the list of names on the first few pages. “Can't say there is, no.”

“Alright, thanks for checking.”

“Mm-hmm.”

Alisha couldn't help but a feel a bit disappointed Rose wasn't here. She'd hoped Rose might have followed her after her business in Lastonbell.

The first thing Alisha did on entering her room was toss her bag and clothes off, and slip into the bathroom for a good scrub. She watched with satisfaction as the water browned by the filth on her body disappeared down the drain. Once she had finished washing she drew a hot bath to relax and ease her tired muscles.  
The hot bath soothed the ache she knew she was going to feel twofold in the morning. Afterward, as she crawled into bed, ready for sleep to take her, Alisha wondered if she might run into Rose in Ladylake tomorrow.

...

The view from within the church’s bell tower was pretty darn good, or to use Lailah’s words “un-BELL-ievably good.” Rose was armatized with Mikleo to improve her eyesight. She could see into even the crudest and narrowest cracks between buildings. Rose leaned forward, resting her folded arms on top of the window’s ledge. Rose and Mikleo could see most of the city this way. Lailah sat sideways on the edge of the belfry, her legs dangling outward, knees creased delicately as if she were riding sidesaddle. Her hands held onto the ledge.

“Even though we can see so much, we still don’t know what to look for her,” Mikleo lamented. His voice echoed within Rose’s mind, a direct line of communication.

“Unrest perhaps,” Lailah suggested, “venture into the nest of vipers.”

Rose opened and closed her mouth. She had grown (slightly) more accustomed to the seraphim speaking within her as their vessel, yet it only occurred to her now that she didn’t know what happened to her connection with the other seraphim when armatized. Typically armatization occurred during battle and she was too busy to pay attention to such things. But Lailah’s reply seemed to answer Rose's question. So they could still hear each other.

“That and secretive deals and anyone who looks like they might have something to hide,” said Rose.

“We'll be lucky if we catch anything at all,” said Mikleo.

“Indeed,” said Lailah.

Rose’s gaze skimmed over the rooftops, dipping between the cracks, and sweeping across streets. It was still fairly early in the morning and yet the city was already wide awake.

Out in the plaza in front of the cathedral, a food vendor was firing up his grill and a florist was rearranging her flower heads to perfection before declaring their stands open. A young man, likely buying the bouquet for his girlfriend, stopped at the florist to pick up roses shortly after she’d set her sign up. On edge since the near-war between Rolance and Hyland, extra guards were patrolling the scene. In border towns where the “threat” was more neighborly, tensions were even higher.

For hours Rose and Mikleo staked out the city. They spotted several pickpockets but the highlight was early in the afternoon. A daytime drunk even had begun heckling a guard stationed outside the cathedral gates. Mikleo released himself from their armatization and Rose was glad. Being in that state for extended periods of time was both physically and mentally exhausting.

“Shall we go see what’s going on down there?” he asked.

Equally intrigued and glad for the opportunity to stretch her legs, Rose nodded and the three of them made their way to the ground. Rose slipped into the gathering audience around the spectacle.

“Please, sir,” the guard was saying, “if you do not calm down and move along I’m going to have to bring you in.”

“Oh, you’ll bring _me_ in?” Amazingly the drunk’s speech was not slurred but he breathed booze with every word - Rose could smell from where she stood - and he had a tendency to put emphasis on strange words. He had shaggy brown hair that was dark with sweat. It fell into his eyes in stringy, unwashed clumps. He wore a long brown coat too big for him that stopped at his knees. His skin sagged, a little bit from age, and a little loose from the alcohol. He stood unevenly, as if on a boat being rocked by the sea. “That’s _rich._ ”

“Sir, please.” A barely contained sigh was amplified by the guard’s metal helmet.

“Don’t you ‘sir, please’ me, you fucking coward.” The drunk spat, literally, at the guard’s foot. “I lost - we lost lives to those fucking _Hylander_ bastards, who _fucking_ started this fucking war, and you cowards can’t even finish it. You won’t avenge our fallen brothers and sisters, you won’t punish the monsters who took their _lives_. Because you're. Fucking. Cowards.”

“The war is over now. No more lives will be lost,” the man in red uniform said, his tone pleading.

“The war is not _over_ until I fucking _say_ it’s over!” The drunk jabbed his index finger angrily into the guard’s chest. The guard caught his wrist.

“This is your last warning, sir.”

The drunk’s muscles locked up, and he stared through the slits in the guard’s helmet, searching for a pair of eyes somewhere in the shadow of that metal dome. They stood locked like that for a full minute, until the drunk finally wrenched his hand away, nursing his wrist.

The unwashed, angry man pushed through the crowd muttering, “heartless _stupid_ coward.”

“Should we follow him?” Lailah consulted Rose.

The redhead shrugged. “Someone part of a secret society of anti-peace extremists is unlikely to blow their cover like that.” Rose’s eyes flicked toward the horizon. There was still plenty of daylight to be had. “But it’s not like we have any better leads.”

They tailed the drunk as he stumbled onto the stoop of a small town house on the outskirts of the city. Before reaching their final destination, however, they walked in circles, retracing steps and seemingly lost for hours. Every few steps the man would pull out a bottle in a brown paper bag that he kept concealed in an inner pocket of his trench coat. Then he'd take a good swig and put it away for another few steps. When it was empty, he tried to catch any last drops on his tongue. Then he bounced between liquor stores until he finally find one that would serve him.

By the time he wandered home, the sun was just beginning to tickle the sky pink. He stopped before the steps and downed the rest of the bottle. He tossed it bag and all into the bushes beside his house.

Rose watched him from across the street, while Mikleo and Lailah listened up close. The drunk stumbled up the stairs and reached straight for the knob but it was locked. He patted himself down, stuffed his hands into the deep pockets of his worn trench coat, coming up empty with every dig and grumbling “fuck it.” He pounded on the door when he finally gave up - first wordlessly, and then he was shouting, “Clara! Clara! Open the door!”

Someone swore from inside the house, and yanked the door open with a righteous fury. A woman about his age with curly blonde hair stood glaring at the mess on her doorstep.

“Jerry!” she hissed. She grabbed a fistful of his coat and dragged him inside. The door slammed shut behind them. “You’re an embarrassment to this household!” The rest of her lecture was muffled then lost as the couple took their argument deeper inside.

“Well?” Rose greeted the two seraphim as they joined her.

Lailah shook her head sadly.

“No wandering to his extremist buddies for sympathy. Just an angry wife embarrassed to have a drunk for a husband,” Mikleo explained.

“Ah, well, it was worth a shot.” Rose looked up at the clouds to the west, painted orange and purple by the setting sun. “Let’s head back to the inn. I’m getting hungry.”

Rose picked a table in the corner, dimmer than the rest, where the light didn’t quite reach. She sat with her back to the wall, angled slightly toward the bar. It gave her a good view of the room without giving away the fact that she was profiling every body to walk through that door and sit at that bar. She debated whether to put her hood up but decided doing so would probably make her look more suspicious.

She had a newspaper open on the table in front of her and a pencil idly twirling between her fingers, playing the role of the lone patron doing the crossword waiting for her dinner – except she wasn't actually doing the crossword and she'd purposefully ordered the item on the menu she expected would take the longest before reaching her table. When she was writing gibberish into the little boxes, she watched the room out of her peripherals. When she looked up for the full scan, she put on a pensive mask that made it seem as though she were searching the room for inspiration in finding the answer to the next puzzle clue. Thanks to Mikleo and Lailah’s presence, Rose was able to play her role a little more convincingly, spending longer chunks of time staring at the paper.

It was at that hour for late dinners and drinks, and a steady trickle of customers wandered into the bar. Rose wasn't particularly optimistic. The day was almost at an end, and finding _good_ evidence of a resistance cell – enough to mobilize the Scattered Bones – in just one day was a tall order she had doubted she could fulfill from the start.

After about a forty minute wait, the food arrived.

“Careful, the plates are hot,” the waiter warned as he placed the two dishes on the table. He had a napkin in either hand to shield himself from the heat.

“Expecting company?” the waiter asked with a polite, conversational smile.

Rose lifted an eyebrow. A bemused twitch at corner of her mouth. “No, I'm just really hungry,” she replied.

His smile faltered a little. “Will there be anything else?”

“Another two glasses of water, please. I am also _very_ thirsty.”

“Yes, of course.”

After the waiter had delivered the water and left again, the Lailah and Mikleo began helping themselves to the food.

“Keep an eye and an ear out for anyone who looks like they might be talking secrets,” Rose reminded them.

Rose scanned the room again. No one of note, it seemed. All the other tables were full and very, very loud. At the bar were a handful of men chatting over drinks. One man sitting closer to their table, was sipping a beer and was idly admiring the bar's liquor inventory.

About halfway through their meal, a man swung the inn door open with a gust of cool night air rolling past him. The man who had been sitting by himself at the bar turned toward the newcomer. He gestured to the stool beside him.

The new guy was familiar, though his face was hard to make out from a distance in the dim lighting. He walked steady but slow, like a drunk man just sober enough to pretend he wasn't completely drunk. What was the point of wasting your money at a bar when you're already drunk, Rose wondered. The strangely familiar person swung his leg over the stool, took his seat, and let his forearms fall unto the table with a thud. Then he lifted a hand to signal the bartender but the man with the beer pushed that hand back down.

“I think you've had enough,” he said.

The drunk scoffed. “Then why'd you invite me to a _bar_?”

It was like a light bulb went off in Rose's, recognition placing him.

“That's the drunk man from earlier,” Lailah said softly, trying not to talk over the conversation on which the three of them were now eavesdropping.

“Because I couldn't be sure you'd show anywhere else, Jerry,” the man with the beer sighed. “You can have your drink after we've had our conversation.”

Jerry clicked his tongue. He made a face like he was going to spit, but evidently thought better of it. “What do you want, Paul?”

“I want you to keep your head down. Please. You're causing a lot of trouble for a lot of people.”

“Who's is people?” Jerry squinted. “Exactly whose side are you fucking on here?”

“I am on your side,” Paul answered calmly. He took another sip of his beer.

“You say that but you lot haven't done nothing.”

“We've done plenty if you'd be sober enough to see it.” A chill entered Paul's tone.

With those words in the air, a quiet settled over Jerry. His shoulders slouched. “Ain't worth being sober no more.” He raised another hand for the bartender and this time Paul didn't stop him.

They sat in silence for a long while, nursing their drinks.

“I know it's... difficult,” Paul finally said, his voice gentle, “and I'm sorry, but you're not the only one who's lost someone. Please understand that no one is dismissing that. But if you get locked up for rabble-rousing or public indecency everyone loses. You'll be in jail, Clara will have lost both her men, and the rest of us – the rest of us risk our reputation, if you get what I'm saying. We can't have you jeopardizing everything we stand for because you can't be sober or at least have the sense to drink at home.”

“Clara dumped all the alcohol,” Jerry sniffed and took a swig from his tankard. “Got nothing at home.”

Paul shook his head sadly.

“ 'We.' 'Our reputation,'” Rose quoted.

“A secret society?” Mikleo ventured.

“Or Lastonbell as a whole, though that seems less likely,” said Lailah.

“Yeah. A city's reputation hardly rests on the back of some nobody drunk,” said Rose.

Paul's shoulders rose and fell with a steadying breath. “As your friend, Jerry, I'm asking you one last time to please take it easy a little. Cut back on the drinking.”

“ 'Take it easy'?” Jerry snarled. “They took my _son_ from me! How can you ask me to 'take it easy'?”

“I know and I'm sorry--”

“You don't know the half of it!” Jerry stood up, knocking his stool over in the process. It crashed to the ground and an explosive silence followed. All eyes in the room were on him. He snatched up his drink and downed the last of it, slamming the empty tankard down on the wooden counter. Tears swelled in Jerry's eyes. “I lost my only son. Tell me – how else is a man supposed to bear that pain? Fuck off, Paul. I'll drink if I want to.”

“I'm sorry...that it's come to this,” Paul sighed, almost too quiet for Rose, Mikleo, and Lailah to hear.

“Me too. We're done here.” With that, Jerry stomped his way out the door, stumbling a little over the stool legs.

Paul's gaze lingered on the door for a few moments. Then he dropped some money on the counter and followed his friend.

“We should follow them,” Rose decided. She too reached into her pocket, tossing payment onto the table, and pursued the two men.

The sky was dark but for the stars and moon, and the two men had gone further than she had expected to in that short time. She glimpsed Paul in time to see him rounding a corner into a small alley. Rose hurried along, a silent gait trained from years of assassin experience. Mikleo and Lailah ran normally behind her.

They turned into the alley they had seen Paul enter to find darkness. It was very narrow. The squat buildings cast thick shadows against each other. No street lamps or moonlight reached this space. The walls and ground were almost entirely black with shadows. It stunk badly of garbage.

Rose zipped through, slipping on stone that was both sticky and slick. She tipped forward. She redirected her fall and caught herself against the side of a brick building. She whirled to see a black shape at her feet. It was a distinctly human shape.

“Shit,” Rose hissed. She sped off to other end of the alley. She whipped her head around in all directions in search of the other man. They'd lost him.

Lailah conjured a ball of flame in one hand and squatted to get a better look at the man on the ground. She identified a single stab wound in his back to be the source of blood. Mikleo flipped him over with his toe. The fire light flickered against the corpse's features, casting ghastly shadows. Jerry lay in a puddle of his own blood.

“It's Jerry,” Mikleo said grimly.

“We sure he's dead?” Rose asked as she approached

“Quite sure,” said Mikleo. “It looks like he died from one stab wound to his back about where the heart is.”

“Didn't even have time to scream,” muttered Rose.

“The other man, Paul, mentioned they were friends,” said Lailah, standing up. “To say they're on the same side and then to kill him over something like that... I didn't sense any malevolence coming off Paul.”

“Neither did I,” Mikleo agreed.

Rose placed both hands on her hips. “Paul made it pretty clear that Jerry's drinking was the problem. And if there's one thing drunks are bad at, it's keeping secrets.”

“So Jerry could have known something,” Mikleo said.

“Or was a part of something,” said Rose. “Let's search him.”

She bent down to help Jerry out of his coat, but his limbs were already stiffening. She abandoned the effort, and fumbled around for the contents his pockets. She pulled out two wads of paper.

“Lailah, can I get some light over here?”

“What's that?” the fire seraph lifted their only source of light over the papers Rose was holding.

Rose smoothed out the crinkled paper as much as she could. They were a couple of receipts. One of them was for two bottles of whiskey, and the other was from a florist for a bouquet. The flowers were likely for his son's grave or to make up with his wife, Rose reasoned.

“Just some receipts,” Rose answered. “Nothing exciting on the face of it. In any case, we now have reason to believe something potentially dangerous is lurking in Lastonbell. I'll get the Bones organized, then we should head to Ladylake and check on Alisha – see how her little visit panned out.”

Lailah and Mikleo nodded in agreement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this far! As always, reviews are much appreciated - they inspire me to write. And please do not hesitate to give me constructive criticism.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is! Finally! If there is anything I have learned while writing this chapter it is that I need to outline my chapters better - a LOT better. I apologize for the lateness of this and I apologize in advance for the sudden influx of OCs. They are plot OCs, I promise. I know there are a lot of them, but the good news (?) is I plan on making a list you guys can refer to. Some of them are important, some are not. You will find out as the story progresses. You don't need to feel overwhelmed because I'll be including their appearances, some basic facts about them, and their relation to the royal family if applicable in the list. I still don't know where I'm going to host it, etc, but it will be up in time for chapter four/with the chapter four update.

Eight familiar faces stared at Alisha from behind a wide table the formed an angular U shape. There would have been nine had Mathia not retired just the day before. A replacement had yet to be named for his position on the Royal Council, so they settled for one less head at the assembly. Originally, the idea had been that votes must past by a lead of at least two to prevent a small majority from having too much power, or something like that. Whether or not it had served that purpose at the time the rule was instated, it did not change that today the gears of power and intrigue rarely left much room for fairness. Particularly when Professor Simon, Administrator of Law and lackey to the late Bartlow, was the one in charge of ensuring Council decisions did not violate its constitution. He regarded Alisha with shrewd eyes – his large beak of a nose crinkled with disdain.

“So far our preliminary peace efforts are progressing rather smoothly,” Alisha said, addressing the Council. “Before our peaceful arrangement with Rolance, trade caravans and travelers were largely risking their lives to cross borders. Banditry has always been a concern either by groups or individuals who harbor ill will toward their neighboring nation. Because of the high risk of attack and dubious gains in the country of their enemy, hiring mercenaries for protection was seen as a waste of money and trading was a waste of time. Few companies braved the journey, and even fewer came out unscathed.”

Simon made a disgusted news from his place at the end of the table. “Yes, yes. We know all this. Just get to the point.”

This earned him some displeased looks from the Council because of the interruption.

Alisha bit back a retort and continued, “We have set up a system where merchant caravans have been traveling in scheduled trips between Marlind and Lastonbell. Each of these runs is escorted by a company containing even number of Rolance and Hyland soldiers. The idea is to promote cooperation between the citizens of our nation, starting with our troops and our traders.

“All bandit attempts have so far failed, and the number of attempts steadily decreasing as time goes on. Not only has the program pioneered mutual cooperation but it provides us with a novel opportunity to exchange scientific knowledge and technology that will benefit both our nations.

“This exchange has bore early fruit in improving medical care to refugees and veterans of the Basin Skirmish. Survival and recovery rates of those injured is at an all-time high compared to previous wars and battles. In my written report, I have included testimonies from licensed healers that detail their success better than I could hope to with my limited knowledge of medicine.

“The Emperor of Rolance has expressed an interest in expanding protected trading routes to span all the way between our capitals. With your approval, we will move forward with this goal and expect to see it implemented within a matter of weeks. You have a question, Chancellor Halbridge?”

“Ah, yes. I do.” Halbridge lowered his hand. Halbridge was a man in his late forties, but didn't look it. He had the round face and glittery green eyes of someone barely thirty, and his skin was smooth of wrinkles save for a few lines around his mouth. His long black hair was fashioned in a loose braid that rested in front of his shoulder.

“I agree whole-heartedly with His Imperial Majesty on expanding this trade route, but what of the popular opinion? I would not want to risk pushing too far too soon. If this passes too fast, it may end poorly,” he said. “Robbery could turn into something significantly more bloody.”

“An excellent point.” Devon nodded his head in agreement. He was a squat man, and one of the oldest on the council. He had gray hair and even grayer eyes. He hid his thinning hair beneath the kind of hat you'd expect to see on a priest if not for its more colorful embellishments.

Cameron scoffed, “Hardly matters if there's an armed escort, does it? Just increase the guards then. Problem solved.” His attitude was always as rigid as his short black hair, treated with far too much product.

“That may not send the best message to Rolance,” said Belle. Her hair was a rich brown, and like Halbridge, she wore it in a braid. She was the same age as well, but she was not graced with the same overly youthful appearance.

“Then I guess it's a lost cause,” Cameron countered. “May as well go to war.”

“If you would be so kind as to lead that charge?” Belle quirked an eyebrow at him from across the room. Her hands rested neatly and calmly on the table in front of her. “We're still short a general, after all.”

Cameron's smug expression withered slightly. The twinkle in his dark blue eyes dulling.

“We have become sidetracked,” Devon chastised. “My apologies, Lady Alisha.” He bowed his head slightly.

Alisha nodded in return. “My thanks,” she replied.

“To answer Chancellor Halbridge's question: we are still gauging that,” Alisha continued, choosing her words carefully. “I would be lying if I said I had not personally witnessed very vocal opposition. But overall, most citizens are willing to cooperate.”

On the one hand, it was important information to share that as ambassador she had been personally targeted. On the other, that was just the sort of thing that warrant hesitation in approving the next phase of their trade plan. Those men had been hellions – not in their right mind. It wasn't right to punish the many for the actions of a few. Yet the risks were undeniable. She wanted to wait to hear what Rose had to say before bringing it to the table.

“It has only been what, two? Three months?” Roderick spread his arms out, shrugging. “It is too soon to tell. Where there is acceptance at the borders for their neighbors, there may be hostility towards the foreign enemy so many miles away from the capital. It is reasonable to assume most residents of Ladylake have not had much, if any, opportunity to meet living, breathing Rolancers and have their prejudices challenged. If prejudices are not challenged, they cannot be overcome. The same will be true for Pendrago.”

“How rare I find myself agreeing with you, Chancellor Roderick.” Belle offered him a wry smile which he mirrored back at her.

“If we do not give our one hundred percent to peace, neither will Rolance,” said Alisha.

“That is valid.” Halbridge tapped his thumb against the table.

Though there was no official head of the Council, Halbridge was the closest thing to one. Before him, it had been Bartlow. Alisha was thankful Halbridge had managed to succeed her uncle. He saw reason and was openly anti-war. With his influence peace might finally be secured. With Mathia gone, Alisha was only sure of Belle and Devon also being anti-war.

Belle was a clever and pragmatic woman. Some might go as so far to call her cold and calculating. Perhaps it was true. But she knew there was nothing to be gained from a war with Rolance except graves for their people.

Devon was not the wisest of chancellors, but he had a good heart. He would oppose further bloodshed. Alisha was certain of it. But she need more secured votes for peace than just those three.

Ferris was a snob and likely did not care on the fates of the men and women who served in the nation's ranks, or the civilian peasants who would be dragged into the conflict. But that didn't mean she would oppose peace if she could be convinced it suited her. Petrah was new, and held his cards very close to his heart. Alisha was unable to get a read on them. They'd said nothing the whole meeting.

Roderick and Simon were two of Bartlow's accomplices in her imprisonment and attempt on Sorey's life. Alisha knew they would be pro-war, and they would never listen to what she had to say. However, that didn't matter, if they were only two votes against five.

Alisha wished she had the charisma and ability to sway their minds like Halbridge or Mathia did. But alas.

“In any case,” Halbridge went on, “unless there is more to your report, Lady Alisha, it seems that your proposal is best slept on. We shall all read your full write-up then reconvene at a later date.”

He tossed a smile her way. “You will be notified of our decision on moving forward with finalizing a peace treaty with Rolance. Many thanks for your service, Ambassador Diphda.”

Alisha bid them her farewell, and exited the hall and found a window sill down the corridor to sit on to catch her breath, nerves still jangling. It was never easy addressing the Royal Council. She's learned the hard way through her many mistakes that one wrong word, one wrong facial tick and your audience was lost. That was politics for you. She sighed.

The chancellors filed out of the room after her. Alisha did not notice that one of them had approached, until she looked up and saw Belle smoothing her robes, haven already taken a seat beside the princess ambassador.

“I am overjoyed to hear that things are going well at the border,” Belle told her. The older woman placed a gentle hand on Alisha's arm. “I just wanted to express to you that I will do everything in my power to convince the others to see reason: war is not the answer.”

“Thank you.” Alisha smiled. “I appreciate your support.”

“You have mine as well,” said Devon. He was too short to tower over even two people who were sitting. It was an endearing trait, Alisha thought.

“Thank you.”

“I am glad your efforts toward peace have thus far been rewarded,” Devon continued. “Pardon the change of topic, but if I'm not mistaken, your birthday is coming up, is it not?”

“Oh, that's right. It's in less than a month.” Alisha was a bit surprised, having forgotten it herself.

“Lovely! Hopefully by then we will be celebrating two wonderful things instead of the one.”

“Yes,” Alisha chuckled, “that would be the best birthday gift I could ask for.”

“Have you had a portrait done recently? You'll be an adult and it would only be right for you to have a recent portrait when you come of age,” said Devon, his face warming with a smile.

“I honestly haven't thought about it,” Alisha laughed nervously. She hated sitting for portraits and skillfully avoided them. She last had one at sixteen and didn't think she'd changed much since then, so it hadn't crossed her mind at all.

“I don't mean to eavesdrop but that sounds like a wonderful idea.” Halbridge joined them at the window.

Belle smiled at him in greeting. “I think so too.”

“I'll think about it,” Alisha told them slowly. “In any case, I have a lot of other things I need to worry about first. I should be going.”

Alisha bowed her head slightly as they said their goodbyes and hurried home. She was a little surprised to find Rose already there with her arms folded over her chest and back pressed against the front gate of Alisha's house. Her foot tapped a tuneless rhythm against the street while she waited for Alisha's approach. She flashed a toothy grin as Alisha drew near, and Alisha felt her heart clench. Her mouth twitched in a poor reflection of Rose's smile. She wasn't looking forward to the ensuing conversation.

“You okay?” Rose's grin faltered. She tilted her head at Alisha.

Alisha wrestled a wry smile onto her lips that didn't reach her eyes. “Well, my cousin's dead.”

Rose blinked at her, horror writ upon her face with wide eyes and raised brow. “So you found him.” She winced. “That was a stupid question. I'm sorry.”

“It's fine.” Alisha glanced around, holding a nervous fist to her chest. The streets were empty, but that did little to ease her paranoia. “...We should talk inside.”

“Uh, yeah.” Rose followed through the front door.

Alisha paused in the foyer, the momentum that had carried her through this morning's meeting was dissolving. An exhausted tremor was making its way down her spine. A hand clamped on her shoulder steadied her.

“Maybe we should sit?”

Alisha nodded, wobbling on her feet a little. “Yeah, that's probably a good idea.”

She let Rose guide her by the elbow into her sitting room.

“Is here okay?” Rose asked.

Alisha nodded. The reality was finally setting in, and it was heavy on her, her joints creaking like rusty door hinges beneath its weight. She lowered herself onto the sofa. Rose sat down beside her, reached for Alisha's elbow again, angling Alisha and herself so they could both face each other.

Rose let go, her hands retreating to her lap. “Tell me what happened.”

The seraphim stepped outside their vessel to join the conversation out in the open.

Alisha busied herself with worrying a curl of loose hair around her finger. Her eyes began to sting. She forgot how to blink, trying to anchor herself to the moment in front of her.

“I found my cousin's remains in the belly of a wyvern I encountered while out searching for him,” Alisha began, each word sticking to the roof of her mouth. “I don't know what a wyvern was doing so close to Marlind.”

“Were you close with your cousin?” Lailah cocked her head to the side, regarding the Squire with sympathetic eyes. She perched on a chair opposite the two humans.

“No.” Alisha shook her head slowly. A sardonic smile twitched across her lips. “He was actually somewhat... difficult to interact with. And there was always some doubt as to whether he'd be fit to rule the kingdom. Prince Guerron would have been perfect, but no one knows what happened to him. Some people said they thought Prince Reynold never really 'grew up' because he was expecting his brother to just come back one day.”

There was no more hair left to twist around her finger, yet she continued to tug. She bit her lip, distracting her vision with the titles on her bookshelf.

“You're taking this very hard,” Mikleo noted aloud, his voice soft with concern.

“I'm scared,” Alisha rasped. Her bottom eyelids swelled with moisture. She winced at the strength with which she was pulling her own hair, releasing the tears in gentle stream along the sides of her face. “I'm scared this wasn't an accident. I'm scared that everything we worked for towards peace was for naught. I'm scared that I was being naïve for thinking peace was just around the corner. The timing: Bartlow's death, the vote for a treaty coming up. What if we have another war?”

“It is beginning to sound like it wasn't an accident, isn't it,” murmured Lailah, her gaze cast on the soft area rug at her feet.

Alisha almost jumped from her seat when a pair of familiar rough hands closed around her own. They worked to carefully extricate the poor abused lock of hair from her grasp. Rose loosened Alisha's fist one finger at a time, uncurling them with and lacing her own fingers through Alisha's.

Alisha took a deep breath, taking the warmth from Rose's hands and letting it ripple through the rest of her body, letting it smooth away some of her tension. Alisha wiped at her tears and squeezed Rose's hand in silent thanks.

“Did you deliver the news to Edith? How did she respond?” Rose asked.

“She seemed very out of it. I think she was in shock.”

“Understandably. I'm sorry to ask, but I have to: did you get a good look at the body?” Rose leaned forward a little. She kept her tone as neutral as possible. “See any injuries that might not have been from the wyvern, for example?”

Alisha shook her head, loose curls bouncing with the movement. “I didn't look as closely as I probably should have.”

“I think it's worth mentioning there was a sizable amount of malevolence,” Zaveid added.

“There was?” Alisha turned to look at him. The shame she felt for not noticing was thick in her throat and hard to swallow.

“Yeah,” Edna confirmed. “It was concentrated at the house, then it thinned a bit as we went deeper into the woods. The malevolence was thick again near where we fought the wyvern.”

“But the wyvern wasn't a hellion?” Alisha glanced between them.

“Nope, just an ordinary monster,” Zaveid replied, “give or take a little taint.”

“There could be extremists present there,” Mikleo ventured, holding a hand over his chin.

Edna shrugged. “What I felt was nothing compared to what came from the extremists we ran into in Rolance.”

“We'll just have to go back and take another look tonight.” Rose gave Alisha's hand a reassuring squeeze. “And then we'll have some answers.”

Alisha gave a sharp nod, meeting Rose's cool gaze. She could feel renewed determination settling into her bones. She was eager to make up for not doing a better investigation. “I'll go too.”

“No. You can't.”

“What – you're not saying I'll get in the way again, are you?”

“That's not what I meant.” Rose flinched apologetically. “You're a princess. You can't risk being seen sneaking around your cousin's estate in the dark. I can. I can be a nobody. I've done this kind of things countless times before. Unless you think you could just waltz back there as princess and ask them to show you the body again?”

“That... is not likely to happen. And would look strange if it did.”

“Which is why you have to trust me.”

Alisha took a calming breath. She was right. “Okay. I do trust you. I trust you completely. So I'll leave this in your capable hands.” She smiled.

Rose cleared her throat, and looked away. She took back the hand that had been holding Alisha's to rub the back of her neck. She stood up suddenly. “Right. I'll let you know what we find.”

“Speaking of finding things,” Alisha scratched her cheek, slightly embarrassed, “I failed to ask if you found anything in Lastonbell.”

“Nothing concrete. But a man killed his alcoholic friend in an alley because he was being too loud about how much he hated Hyland.”

“That's...!” Alisha covered her mouth.

“Horrible, yes.” Lailah shook her head sadly.

“But it could also be a sign something bigger is going on that wants secrecy bad enough to kill for,” said Mikleo.

“In any case, I've got the guild on it. They'll let me know if they turn up any leads. In the mean time, I've got a break-in to plan.” Rose hesitated in the doorway. “Hey, are you going to be okay?”

“Yeah.” Alisha wiped away the remaining moisture on her cheeks. “Thanks. I'll be fine.”

...

“Seriously?” Lunarre eyed the pickaxe propped against the tunnel wall.

The light from Lunarre's lamp made long shadows on the tunnel wall and encased them in a bubble of illumination. In either direction outside the bubble was a sheer wall of darkness.

“Seriously,” Symonne answered. Her arms hung limply at her sides, and in her right hand the jeweled end of her wand glowed a murky purple.

“The jewels you nicked in town weren't enough?” Lunarre turned his glare to Symonne. He didn't take a single step towards the tool. “Just steal more.”

“Not possible,” she refused him.

“Are you kidding – next, you're going to tell me there are no more precious gems to steal in all of Hyland.” He rolled his eyes.

“If we do anything to draw attention to ourselves, the whole plan falls apart,” she told him, her expression impassable. “Take too much and there will be a big investigation into the series jewelry thefts.”

“But they can't see you. And hysteria breeds malevolence, which helps us. It's very convenient.”

Symonne looked at him for a long time, giving him a pitying stare. “Thinking never was your strong suit, was it? The Shepherd will be drawn to the malevolence, and then we risk being caught. And even without malevolence, that won't stop the thefts from making headlines. It's better that there be only a couple isolated incidents, and that we do the rest ourselves. We need way too many to stay under the radar if we steal. This mine has been long abandoned. No one will notice anyone has been here.”

Lunarre's lip curled in disgust. “You could at least help me out.”

“Do I look like an earth seraph to you?” Symonne quirked an eyebrow at him. She plopped herself down on a flat rock jutting out of the wall. “Now quit complaining and dig. I promise it will all be worth it.”

Lunarre clicked his tongue, disbelief written in every angry crease in his face. With a groan he picked up the ax and swung it down. The echoing _chink_ the pick made on impact was drowned by the scraping sound of dislodging it for the next swing.

“Wait.” Lunarre halted mid-swing. He lowered the pickaxe and leaned against the handle. “If this mine was abandoned, it was for a reason. How do you even know if there are still gems here?”

“The mine wasn't abandoned because of a lack of precious stones.” Symonne lazily gestured around her with her wand. “Certain people had certain illegal interests, and it was cleared out to keep those interests private. That's enough questions. Get back to work.”

Lunarre groaned again. He wished he could take a swing at her with the pickaxe. But he'd already had one near death experience too many, so he opted to take out his frustration just on the rock instead.

…

A dense curtain of mourning blanketed the late Prince Reynold's estate, snuffing out the usual murmurs of nighttime activity. It wasn't that late, there should still be people up, yet there was nothing but silence and rows of windows into pitch black.

Rose surveyed the grounds the best she could with limited visibility. She was standing on a high branch of a tree at the edge of the wood that circled the manor.

\-- _The malevolence from before is gone,_ Edna noted. _Whoever, or whatever, was responsible for it is gone._

 _\--Shit, well, there's still the body to look_ _at_ _,_ said Zaveid.

The main house was closest to Rose from where she stood. She had only guesses as to where the family would keep the body. She figured her best bet would be to follow the guards' patrol routes. A concentration of guards would make it too easy for someone to see that something was being hidden there. No, it would be where their routes overlapped, where they passed most frequently.

She had watched for hours, carefully putting down the guard's paths on a makeshift map. She could follow their movements by the light of the lanterns they carried. She noticed they frequently passed by a building west of the main house. But to reach it, she was going to have navigate one of their large gardens.

Her target acquired, it was time to move. “Let's go.”

Clad in the black garb of the Scattered Bones, Rose swung down from the tree, stole across the grass, and slipped unseen into the vast garden sprawling east of the manor. Her intent was to circle around the back of the house, where there _wasn't_ a laid path to that building. Green labyrinthine shrubs lined the walk on either side of Rose, obscuring her peripheral, as she stayed low to the ground.

She paused to listen for footsteps over the soft babbling of water splashing over stone some ways ahead. Nothing. She pressed on.

She passed under a lattice archway, woven with vines and flowers. The shrubs opened up to circle lined with stone benches and flower beds. A bobbing halo of gold was coming her way. Rose darted forward, using the large fountain at the center of the circle as cover. She was careful not to rustle the flowers planted at its feet.

The guard's chain mail shivered like metal rain, louder than his clunking footsteps against the paved walkway.She had no way of knowing which way he'd round the fountain.

\---- _Someone tell me which way he goes,_ she ordered.

Lailah wordlessly volunteered, stepping outside her vessel to check. ---- _He's coming around to your right._

\---- _Great, thanks_.

Lailah returned to Rose.

Rose circled the fountain, always keeping it between her and the guard. She measured his gait, placed her feet down only when he did. When they had traded places, the guard leaving the way Rose had came, she waited a beat before peering over the lip of the stone structure to confirm he was gone around the corner. Time to move on.

She exited the garden through a second lattice arch, and just as she was halfway across the back of the house, a second guard turned the corner in her direction. She was currently outside his field of view. His eyes would be adjusted to be reliant on the light from his lantern. Anything the light didn't touch, he would not be able to really see. But it wouldn't stay that way for long. She whipped around looking for an out. Nothing but a wall on her left and forest on her right. She couldn't risk the forest, too much noise. She was about to backtrack, look for cover in the garden, but then there were footsteps behind her. It was likely the guard she had just passed before. Not good. Unfortunately, the patrol routes were somewhat erratic, the purpose being to cover a general area and not singularly follow a set path. Rose already knew and expected this. To follow a path made movements predictable, easier for intruders to avoid detection.

\-- _Zaveid, a little help here?_ Rose prompted.

\-- _On it!_

Using his wind artes, Zaveid brought the foliage at the edge of the forest to life.

“Did you hear that?” one man called to the other.

They both hurried to the source of the snapping twigs and rustling leaves. Rose took the opening to run behind them. The way was clear to cross the lawn to the building she'd seen from her tree branch earlier.

\-- _Isn't this_ _...the barn?_ Rose stopped beneath a window along the side.

\-- _I can't imagine a member of the royal family or a noble house keeping secrets in... a barn, of all places. But I suppose that is what would make it a good hiding place,_ Lailah mused.

\-- _Not to mention the smell would help cover up the stench of a dead body,_ Edna pointed out.

\-- _You'd think something would have been done to preserve it. It shouldn't smell_ _too bad_ _,_ said Mikleo.

\-- _How many people do you think just have embalming stuff lying around?_ Edna replied, her tone flat.

\-- _It's also unlikely they brought someone in to do it,_ Zaveid added. _They wouldn't want to risk the mortician bringing the word_ _out_ _with them. It does make a kind of sense why they'd try to keep it in the family by reaching out to Alisha, but..._

 _\--_ _Why keep it a secret at all?_ Rose offered.

\-- _Exactly._

 _\--Wyverns are powerful, vicious creatures,_ said Mikleo. _I see no shame or anything to hide in dying from an encounter with one. Unless, of course, it_ wasn't _an accident._

\-- _Which would make the wyvern what? Clean up?_ Edna asked.

\-- _Most likely,_ Lailah sighed.

\-- _But it still doesn't make sense why his murder would be kept secret,_ said Mikleo.

\-- _W_ _ell, that's_ _why we're here_ , Rose reminded them. _To get a look at the bod_ _y and get some answers._ _What's the status on the patrol?_

Lailah left again to check.

\-- _All clear! No one is directly in front of the barn and the doors are closed so they won't be able to see you move around inside_ _unless they go around the side and look through the windows_ _._

_\--Perfect._

There were always two guards in close proximity to the barn, never wandering too far, but not making it blatantly obvious either. They'd been given good instructions.

The windows to the stalls had doors on them, consisting of a frame and iron bars. It was easy enough for Rose to slip a hook through the bars and undo the latch on the inside. The hinges squealed as she opened the door outwards. A horse blew loudly through its nostrils. The window was just large enough for Rose's whole body to fit through.

The shavings muffled her landing, but did nothing to dampen the surprise of the stall's occupant. The horse let out a frenzied whinny. It leaped aside, slamming against the wall as it tried to put distance between the intruder and itself. The fear was contagious, spreading to the horse's neighbors as they too cried out.

 _\--_ _The guards are coming,_ Edna stated matter-of-factly.

“What the hell's going on?” one guard hissed to the other. “You think someone's in the barn?”

“I don't know. Shit.” Metal knocked on wood as the man fumbled with the lock.

Rose crouched in a corner of the stall and waited while they opened the barn. The stall had half doors, so the horses were able to stick their heads out into the aisle. The guards would easily be able to see over it, even if she hugged her back to the door.

The guards rushed inside. Each with one hand holding their lantern high and the other on their sword hilt.

“I'll take this side. You look over there.”

“Show yourself! We know you're in here. There's no point hiding. We _will_ find you,” one warned.

There's the sound of objects scraping across the floorboards as they air out every potential hiding spot. Rose can barely hear the chorus of nighttime insects over the adrenaline pounding in her ears. She could have taken them, easily, especially with the help of the seraphim. But this wasn't just about not getting caught. This was about not leaving any sign that she had been here at all. Knocking them out and then going on with her business was absolutely out of the question. And she couldn't escape back out through the window. They'd no doubt catch the movement.

“I'm going to check the hayloft.”

“Gotcha. I'll check the stalls.”

\-- _Don't worry. I've got this,_ Mikleo assured them.

Mikleo was ready for him when he leaned over their stall door, cloaking Rose with his water artes. The horse still huffed at them through flared nostrils, ears trained in their direction. The cloak lasted just long enough for the guard to miss them and move on. Rose suppressed a sigh of relief.

“Find anything?”

“Nope. Nothing up here. You?”

“Not a thing.”

“It was probably that damned cat – spooked one of the horses and once one of 'em spooks, they all spook.”

\-- _That's your cue, Meebo. Do your best cat impression. You need to be convincing. The success of our mission depends on it._

 _\--I am_ not _a cat, and I am not pretending to be one either!_

Lailah stifled a giggle.

\-- _Meeeooowww~! How_ _was_ _that, Edna?_ Zaveid jumped in.

\-- _No one asked you._

 _\--Will you guys knock it off!_ Rose cried.

\-- _It looks like they're leaving,_ said Lailah, bringing them back on task.

The light flickered and waved as the lanterns swung, the guards doing one last pivot to check the area around them.

“Must have been. There's no one in here.”

They closed and locked the barn behind them. Rose vaulted over the stall door. It was a big building with only a dozen or so stalls divided between either wall, each with windows to the outside. It had a high ceiling and the center aisle was unnecessarily wide. Steps at the end of the aisle led to a loft the spanned the back quarter of the barn.

\-- _We should split up and search,_ Lailah suggested.

They peered into every hidden space, foraged through bins, looked for hidden compartments, felt for loose floor boards. Zaveid stood in the center of the barn, feeling the wind for human shapes and the smell of decay.

“Find anything?” Lailah asked.

Zaveid shook his head. “Not a thing.”

“It's like they fully expected intruders,” Mikleo thought aloud. “It was a feint to make intruders _think_ the barn is where they were hiding something.”

“Then there is _definitely_ a big reason they are hiding the body,” Rose said, keeping her voice low.

“Which could be anywhere,” Edna pointed out.

“Where do we even start?” Mikleo pinched the bridge of his nose.

Rose stood abruptly and began walking toward the window. “I doubt they would have taken the body off the property. It has to be somewhere. The body was discovered during the day, and has been stored by nightfall. If the body was carried through the house during the day, servants would have seen it. And the fewer witnesses, the less gossip, ideally.

“I thought I saw a storm door on the way here, and the cellar is as good a place to start as any.”

Their timing could not have been more perfect. The way to the cellar entrance was completely clear.

Once inside, Lailah conjured a ball of fire in her palm as their light source. The walls were lined with shelves of food that reached all the way to the ceiling. The entire basement was made of stone walls cobbled and cemented together. On the far wall were a handful of wine barrels stacked three high.

Edna walked halfway across the cellar before coming to a stop and pointing her umbrella at the wall with the wine rack. “There's a room behind that wall. The entire cellar is walled with stone; I can feel it.”

“Any chance you can also tell us where the door is?” Mikleo asked. “It would be nice if we didn't have to move any these barrels just to look.”

“Of course I can.” Edna proceeded to the far wall, tapped it with her umbrella. “There's a seam here, too thin for a human to detect. They would have to know the mechanism to open the door. But _I_ am not human.”

As she spoke those last words, the wall in the corner shifted, a revealing an opening at the end of the wine rack.

“And here we have our secret room.” Edna strolled through the gap.

It was small and empty save for a human-shaped lump that lay in the middle of the floor, covered in a pale sheet. The room connected to a dark corridor at the other end.

Lailah brought her light close as Rose knelt down and peeled back the linen – coarse even through her gloves.

“That's our prince all right,” Rose said with quiet pity. “Let's get this sheet off him.”

Conveniently, the prince was naked – ready to be dressed for his upcoming funeral no doubt. His lower half had already been messily sewn together and reattached to his torso, which was covered in blue bruises. While his chest may have been protected by armor, his arms and legs weren't. They bore a series of puncture wounds from the wyvern's bite that penetrated through bone and a row of claw marks. Nothing had been done about the head yet. His one remaining eye was closed – peaceful – while the other have of his face was missing, an open window into his skull.

“Help me roll him over,” Rose directed no one in particular.

Mikleo wordlessly volunteered.

His back had similar bruising and the backs of the prince's arms and legs were also carved in claw marks. The knife wound on his right thigh was immediately apparent. A single puncture, no arrangement of holes that indicated a set of teeth was responsible for the damage. And the shape was off for a tooth. Instead of being mostly round – a tunnel into his flesh – the wound was long and narrow. The injury was black with dried blood, and the skin around it was strangely dark.

“Aah, man, what a way to go.” Zaveid whistled, tugging at the brim of Dezel's hat. “Stabbed and eaten alive by a wyvern.”

“That is definitely a knife wound,” said Rose. “But the skin around is a bit...”

“Dark,” Edna finished for her.

“Poison?” Mikleo turned to look at Rose.

“Most likely.”

“Is there any way to tell what kind of poison it was?” asked Mikleo

“Not just from looking. But I can guess that it at the very least it may have caused some kind of muscle paralysis to prevent him from escaping his fate.” Rose reached into one of her many pouches for a swab and a bag. She delicately sampled the inside of the gash, depositing the soiled swab in the bag. She pressed the air out as she sealed the bag. “I can have Talfryn look at the swab and see if he can figure out what poison may have been used.”

“So the wyvern _was_ just clean up.” Edna rested her umbrella against her shoulder.

Lailah closed her eyes for a moment, a frown tugging at the corners of her mouth and knitting her brow.

“How gruesome.” Mikleo recoiled in disgust. He took a step back. “Lailah, what's wrong?”

“The malevolence Edna and Zaveid described, I haven't felt it either since coming here – which I know was already mentioned, but... I don't sense any malevolence around Prince Reynold's body either.”

The air in the room stilled.

“Neither do I.” Mikleo's purple eyes widened.

“Couldn't that just mean whoever did it is long gone?” Rose straightened, tired of kneeling.

“I don't know,” Lailah admitted, grim shadows flickering across her expression from the flame in her hand. “Even if that were the case, there is usually still at least a little bit of taint clinging to the victim of a murder.”

Edna turned to face the tunnel that led into pitch darkness and one by one the others followed her gaze.

“We should follow it,” she said. “It seems like it leads pretty far away from the manor.”

“You think that's how they brought the body in?” asked Mikleo.

“Could be.” Rose returned Reynold's body to how they had found it. “It's more discreet than the storm door, anyways. Or through the house.”

“I wonder what it was originally used for.” Lailah started down the tunnel with Mikleo and Rose on her heels.

“If not for storing corpses,” Edna muttered.

Mikleo shot her a look.

“What? I don't pretend to understand humans.”

He rolled his eyes. “It is probably just a secret escape route.”

Edna shrugged. “You never know with humans.”

Another eye roll.

Zaveid lagged behind with Edna while she shut the secret passage into the cellar behind them.

The tunnel was narrow with walls of of rough rock, lined with unlit sconces. Rows of wooden columns supported beams that arced over their heads at uniform intervals, keeping the ceiling from coming down on them. It wasn't the most stable structure but it was sufficient.

“Weird that a secret escape route would have torches on the walls,” Rose commented. “You don't need them if you've got one in your hand, and if you don't have regular traffic. It probably had some other purpose.”

They proceeded down the tunnel until it opened up into a naturally formed cave with a relatively level floor that was devoid of wooden supports.

“What's that smell?” Zaveid cried, stopping in his tracks and blocking his nose with both hands. “It smells like shit.”

“That's because it _is_ shit,” Edna stated matter-of-factly, now standing a ways ahead of him. “Look.”

The left side of the cave room was partitioned by a row of metal bars that stretched from one wall to the other, separating them, and a tunnel that proceeded further in, from where Edna was pointing with her umbrella. There indeed was a large pile of droppings just in front of her. It looked dry, like it had been there a while, but that didn't stop the flies from swarming it. Not too far away was the skeleton of a mammal too incomplete to name. Not a shred of flesh clung to its bones.

A door into the pen was swung open as far as its hinges would allow. Rose passed through, tracking along the wall to get a feel for the space. On one end, a deep trough had been carved into the floor. It was filled with murky, stale water. Overhead, a small opening in the cave ceiling let in a sheet of moonlight that softly illuminated more animal remains and feces.

“Now this may sound crazy--” Zaveid began.

“Like ninety percent of the rest of the drivel that comes out of your mouth,” Edna quipped.

Zaveid ignored her, keeping his stride “--but it seems to me that someone was keeping something here... something big.”

“Something like a wyvern?” Rose offered. “There is no straw or any kind of bedding. Those would be a fire hazard if something that – you know – breathed fire was being kept here.”

“There's no proof that that is what was being kept here.” Mikleo folded his arms over his chest.

“No, but it would make sense,” Rose replied, crossing over to him.

“And it would be hard to imagine it being much else,” Mikleo conceded.

“Exactly.”

“Do you think a wyvern was being kept here for the plan to murder Reynold, right under his nose?” Lailah asked.

“Maybe.” Rose shrugged. “But Prince Reynold wouldn't be the first noble to keep illegal pets, show them off to the right guests... Whatever it was, none of these droppings look too fresh, and no one has been here to clean up the old ones. The prince's 'hunting trips' were a regular thing, yeah? This makes me think the trips were a cover for coming here. It was his pet. And with the prince dead, there is no excuse for anyone in the household who knew to come out here to care for it in secret. Hence old droppings, and no sign of a pet.”

“That does seem very plausible.” Mikleo nodded.

“Which would mean there is an entrance to this cave, accessible from the forest.” Edna started down the tunnel opposite the way they had come.

Lailah hurried after her, chastising her for going on ahead in the dark.

“I can feel the wind coming from down that way,” said Zaveid to Mikleo and Rose. “The exit is close.”

As they walked down the tunnel, Mikleo mused, “If we could confirm that a wyvern was being kept here, and find out who cared for it, it would certainly bring us a lot closer to finding our killer. It's no coincidence Prince Reynold was found in the belly of a monster that doesn't even live in forests.”

“If only it were as easy said as done, eh?” Zaveid gave the younger seraph a soft, playful nudge with his arm.

“After we get out of here, I can have our best tracker take a look,” Rose told them as she brushed past. “They can confirm what lived here. Finding out who was maintaining it aside from Reynold will be more difficult – but still doable.”

When they caught up to Edna and Lailah, the two women were stopped, standing still as the stone beneath their feet. Rose followed their gazes to the wide mouth that opened into a sea of trees. Stars winked at her from between the trunks.

In the middle of the exit, stood a lone silhouette, petite and familiar. Reflex guided Rose's hands to her daggers, fingers curving sharply around the hilts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly have no idea how this chapter turned out, so your feedback is greatly appreciated! I am always looking to fix mistakes and improve! Thanks! <3


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to give a shout out to **Nightraze** for being an awesome and talented person who was kind enough to write such incredibly detailed reviews on all my chapters and for drawing [this amazing piece of fanart from chapter 2!](http://thenightraze.tumblr.com/post/155208426731/scene-from-practicingproductivitys-awesome-story) You rock <3
> 
> As always, I'm uncertain about the new chapter. I hope you enjoy it regardless, and I'm always looking to improve! So if you have any constructive criticism, I'm all ears :) The OC reference sheet is up! If you navigate to "series this work is a part of" you'll see there is another entry in the series! I'll do my best to keep it up to date, but if you think I've forgotten someone or want me to add something please tell me!

_When [Rose, Zaveid, and Mikleo] caught up to Edna and Lailah, the two women were stopped, standing still as the stone beneath their feet. Rose followed their gazes to the wide mouth that opened into a sea of trees. Stars winked at her from between the trunks._

_In the middle of the exit, stood a lone silhouette, petite and familiar. Reflex guided Rose's hands to her daggers, fingers curving sharply around the hilts._

 

“I had a feeling I'd eventually run into you again,” Symonne drawled. Her back was turned to them, eclipsing the moon and the stars so that she was nothing more than a dark shape against the sea of trees beyond the mouth of the cave.

“Yeah, because you and the pro-war extremists seem to go hand-in-hand,” said Rose. Anger was boiling beneath her surface, threatening to spill over into something violent.

“Do we now?”

“Last time we followed one, we found you at the source of the malevolence.” Lailah's demeanor was calm, but an aura of anger was slipping through the cracks.

“I don't sense any malevolence here, do you?” Symonne twirled her wand between her fingers, catching the jeweled head in the open palm of her other hand.

“If you suspected we would come, you would have had plenty of time to clear out the place to hide their activity.” Mikleo's hand twitched at his side, ready to summon his staff at a moment's notice.

“Is that what you think?” Symonne let out a short, shriek of a laugh that shook her entire frame. “That's rich coming from a seraph. How do you expect me to command that which can neither see nor hear me? You give me far too much credit.”

“Hellions can see you,” Edna replied drily. She lowered her umbrella from where she'd been resting it against her shoulder and readied herself for a violent encounter.

Symonne stilled. Her voice was cool as the night air that wove the spaces between them. “You just have an explanation for everything, don't you?”

“So did you do it?” Zaveid asked.

“Do what? I don't know what you're referring to.”

“You can play the fool all you want,” Rose began to slide her daggers free from their sheaths, one millimeter at a time, “but Alisha isn't here to play pacifist. I won't show you any mercy.”

“Is that a threat?” Amusement bounced along each word, and Symonne turned. Just enough to show her mouth was twisted into a sickly grin. “If you want me dead so badly, why are you wasting your breath with small talk?

“Assuming I did whatever it is you think I did, what makes you think that I would tell you?” She completed her turn, now facing them. The jewel in her palm began to glow a malicious purple.

“Answer the question, Symonne!”

“And if I don't?” The light from her wand cast demonic shadows across her face. The air around her shimmered with mana.

Rose darted forward, daggers in hand, to stop Symonne from casting her arte. Symonne did not so much as flinch as Rose's blade swept clean through her middle. Her wicked grin remained plastered on her face, as one of Symonne's illusions dissolved into nothing. Rose swore her frustration.

“Another illusion...” Mikleo murmured.

“Lailah, why do you look so relieved?” Rose rejoined them.

Lailah's eyes were downcast and she held a hand delicately over her chest. She looked up when Rose addressed her. “I'm glad we didn't have to fight her again.”

Rose shrugged. “We might. Eventually.” She returned her weapons to their sheathes.

Lailah chewed her lip.

“I personally wouldn't mind knocking some sense in to her,” said Edna.

“If you ask me, it's inevitable. I don't know if you've noticed, but the girl's got a few screws loose.” Zaveid leaned his back against the wall of the cave, crossing one foot over the other.

“She's still not a hellion.” Lailah's hand balled into a fist.

“All the more reason we'll have to fight her,” Rose countered, making great effort to keep from raising her voice. “She feels completely justified in what she does. There's nothing to stop her from stirring up more malevolence and deaths in her wake. You can't change someone's entire way of thinking or behavior just by asking nicely. Sometimes a sacrifice of one is needed for the good of the many. That's how the Scattered Bones stay in business.”

“We are not the Scattered Bones,” Lailah reminded her. “You are a Shepherd. You help people – humans and seraphim alike.”

“And _sometimes_ , death is the only salvation, hellion or not. For example, Cardinal Forton. Heldalf.”

Mikleo folded his arms over his chest. “Sorey would not want us to fight her either, if we can avoid it. We have no evidence she was behind the prince's death. Or that she is actually involved with extremists.”

Rose threw up her hands. “Fine. But if we find out she is involved, I'm not holding back.”

“Hopefully, it won't come to that.” Lailah unclenched her fist and closed her eyes for a moment. She took a deep, steadying breath.

“Realistically, how many of the Scattered Bones' targets do you think are actually hellions?” Mikleo directed his question to Rose.

“I can't even begin to guess,” she replied, her face inscrutable behind her mask, “and a part of me would rather not, now knowing how malevolence can be stopped, but I can't let myself dwell on it. …If Dezel were still with us, he would probably know.”

At the mention of their fallen companion, a mournful silence settled on their shoulders.

“A wind seraph is meant to be free.” Zaveid dragged out the last syllable as he pushed away from the wall. He stretched his arms as he walked towards the exit. “Instead of suffocating surrounded by all this rock, let's see where we've ended up.”

…

That morning, a knight in full armor greeted Alisha at her doorstep. She couldn't read his expression through his helmet, but she didn't need to to know why he was there. She squared her shoulders, taking on a more regal posture.

“Good morning, Lady Alisha.” He bowed.

“Good morning.”

The knight cleared his throat. “I have... bad news, I'm afraid.”

He paused.

Alisha waited stiffly for him to continue.

He took a deep breath. “I do not know the details, but I have been instructed to inform you that after having been missing, His Highness Prince Reynold's body was found this morning. You... have my deepest sympathies, milady.” He hesitated again. “I was also told to give you this.”

He retrieved a thin envelope from a pocket hidden by his blue tunic and presented it to her with both hands.

“Thank you.” Alisha took it, giving him an appreciative nod. “If that is all, you are dismissed.”

The knight bowed once more, turned on his heel, then left.

Alisha retreated back into her foyer, where she grabbed a letter opener from the table by the front door. She slipped the thin sliver of metal beneath the flap and broke the seal with one fluid motion. Its contents were much less than what she had expected. The letter consisted of a single paragraph:

_Dear Princess Alisha,_

_We hope you find good health and strength of spirit in this time of loss. We will be tirelessly discussing what the news of Prince Reynold's death means for who shall next guide our beloved kingdom toward prosperity. We no longer have a direct heir for the throne. Thusly the matter must be put to a vote. We, the Council, have determined that the inheritance is best discussed by third parties without any thread, no matter how thin, tied to the throne. This is a measure to remove bias from our decision, or discussion thereof, as much as possible. Accordingly, we regret to ask you, Princess Alisha Diphda, to recuse yourself and to have faith in our judgment._

_Sincerely,_

_Chancellor Roderick, on behalf of the Hyland Royal Council_

Alisha held the letter, her eyes trained on the signal signature at the bottom. Just one. Alisha had to wonder how many people had received this same letter, was the letter about the inheritance just for her – another attempt to bar her from politics? Was Roderick acting alone or was this really the sentiment of the entire Council?

No. It couldn't be. Alisha chewed her lip. She remembered that Chancellor Belle was also a potential heir.

Though Belle did not appear to be corrupt as far as Alisha could tell, it was unlikely she would step down from something so important just because she was told to. To be honest, Alisha would be relieved if Belle became queen. She was a reasonable and intelligent woman. The odds of that happening, however, were even lower than Alisha's own chances. Unease crept up Alisha's spin and prickled the hairs at the nape of her neck.

Alisha would need to pay Belle a visit. She wasn't the best at getting information out of people or negotiating, not like Rose was. But this wasn't something she could ask Rose for help with. It would be completely inappropriate to ask the Shepherd to get so directly involved.

“ 'Morning!”

Alisha started, having forgotten she had left the front door open. She recognized the voice instantly. It pierced the thick fog of dark thoughts that clung to her – a parting among the clouds to let Rose's cheerful greeting shine through, teasing a smile from Alisha's lips.

“Good morning. Please tell me you have good news,” Alisha said – devoid of real hope – as she welcomed Rose inside.

“The prince is no longer in two pieces,” Zaveid offered as he passed her.

“That's--” Alisha's eyes widened.

“Amazing stitch work. You almost can't tell he got ripped in two.”

“Zaveid, you shouldn't joke about things like that,” Lailah chided gently.

Zaveid shrugged. “It wasn't really a joke.”

“...You know what I meant.”

Alisha cleared her throat to get her words back after Zaveid's tactless comment. “So, what happened last night?”

She lead them to her sitting room where Rose explained how they had found Reynold's body in a hidden room in the cellar, the knife wound, the secret tunnel that had been the holding cell for an unknown beast – suspected wyvern – and their run-in with Symonne.

“The tunnel lead us to the forest behind the manor – actually not too far from where we fought the wyvern,” Edna told Alisha.

“A knife wound... So it wasn't an accident,” Alisha murmured, not really hearing the seraph as she watched the sunlight glitter off her armored toes. She almost always wore her armor during the day, even at home. She was back to her usual pink tunic and side ponytail.

“I'm afraid not,” Mikleo confirmed.

“What will you do now?” Alisha asked, looking up at Rose.

Rose lifted her shoulders for second and then let them drop. “I need to get back to Lastonbell; that's where the Scattered Bones are. I need to have Felice look at the poison that was used, and ask Rosh to figure out what was living in that tunnel and whether he could track the who's been in or out from there.”

“How does knowing the poison help?”

“Depending on what it is, we might be able to trace who's been buying and selling it,” Rose explained.

“I see...”

“I know that look.” Rose smirked.

Alisha looked up, surprised. “What look?”

“You're thinking how you can help. Don't worry. We've got this. I'll leave the crazies in the castle to you.”

Alisha nodded slowly. “All right. I'll do just that. Speaking of the castle, I think you should see this.”

She passed the letter she'd received this morning to the redhead seated across from her. She watched Rose's eyes dance back and forth across the page.

“Subtle,” Rose remarked with a touch of humor in her tone when she reached the end.

“My thoughts exactly,” Alisha sighed. “Even though I do not have a personal interest in becoming Hyland's ruler, it isn't right that I am being barred from discussing inheritance.”

“But I think you would make a wonderful queen.” Lailah smiled.

Alisha felt her cheeks darken at the compliment. “Ah, thank you, but I don't think I'm really cut out for it. I just want to do everything I can to prevent someone like Bartlow ever coming to power again.” Her complexion cooled after a deep breath. “I am not even really sure what they hope to gain by barring me. It's not like I have a vote.”

“You still have a mouth,” said Edna.

“I... don't follow.” Alisha blinked at her.

“It's easier to spread lies to each other about you if you're not there to denounce them. To keep you as far away from the throne as possible.”

“Oh. Right.” Alisha furrowed her brow. That should have been obvious. Last night's lack of sleep was already showing. Anxious for Rose's safety and her investigation she'd spent all night creating a mess of her blankets.

Rose tossed the letter onto the low table between them and leaned back in her chair, throwing one leg over the other and lacing her fingers behind her head. “You really think the _whole_ Council is in on it?”

Alisha's jaw hardened. “Doubtful. Chancellor Belle has a claim as well, though weaker than mine. I do not think she would support something that works against her like this.”

“She may have received the same letter then. Or maybe not.”

Alisha ducked her chin in a curt nod, glad they were on the same page. “That is what I aim to find out by visiting her today.”

Rose stood up. After a pause she said, “I should leave you to it. And I should be going. It's a bit of a trek from here to Lastonbell.”

“Yes, of course. Thank you for filling me in.” Alisha walked her to the front door.

“No problem.”

They hovered at the threshold, an invisible shield delaying Rose's inevitable departure. Alisha wished to reach out and touch her, insist she stay for tea, but to do so she'd have to cross an ocean.

“I need to go to the market to have flowers sent to Lady Edith,” Alisha blurted out. “Will you walk with me?”

Rose smiled at her. “Sure thing.”

And so they passed through the Noble Quarter, falling into a silence that was asphyxiating. Alisha itched to say something, to connect.

“I don't think I realized how I lonely I had become until I ran into you in Marlind,” said Alisha, looking straight ahead as she walked.

Alisha hadn't really expected a reply, but found her heart sinking nonetheless when Rose didn't have anything to add.

“I'm glad we did,” Alisha went on.

Rose turned her head at that, catching Alisha's eyes. “Yeah, me too.” She offered a lop-sided grin that struck warm relief on Alisha's heartstrings.

With that sentiment out in the open, the tense silence that followed slipped into something a little more comfortable.

There was a flower cart just outside the sanctuary that looked well-stocked. It was staffed by a cheerful young woman, likely somewhere in her twenties.

“Good morning, Your Highness!” The woman bowed slightly. “How may I help you?”

“Good morning. Do you make deliveries?” Alisha was already reaching into one of her satchels for her wallet.

“Why yes we do!” The florist chirped. “Where would you like the flowers delivered?” she asked, sliding a pad of delivery slips toward Alisha.

“To the Prince's estate near Marlind.” Alisha plucked the quill pen from the inkwell and began writing the address.

“Certainly. Would you like to include a note or a card as well?”

“Yes, please.”

Alisha kept her condolences fairly brief. She was sure Lady Edith would be receiving many more bouquets, and did not want to over burden her. The florist was writing something as well that looked like a receipt.

“Will that be all?” The woman sheathed the card in an envelope with the business' name written in the corner. She passed Alisha a copy of the receipt.

“Yes, thank you.”

“Thank you for your patronage.” The florist dipped at the waist again. “The flowers should reach their destination sometime this afternoon.”

She pulled a glove over one hand, and from the shelf just beneath the cart top she retrieved a small black box and a stamp in the shape of a five-point star.

“Whoa!” Rose leaned in over Alisha's shoulder. “Is that one of those new swanky-ass heat-retaining wax wells?”

The florist chuckled, “You have a good eye. We make a lot of deliveries, and therefore must seal many envelopes. It's much easier than having to warm the wax again every time, and less of a fire hazard. Unfortunately, the outside of the box gets very hot as well so,” she waggled her gloved fingers, “some precautions are necessary.”

“We really should get ourselves one of those,” Rose muttered to herself. “They aren't cheap though...”

Alisha made a mental note – an addition to the list of possible gifts for Rose. She thanked the florist one last time and walked with Rose back to where the streets split between the roads to the Noble Quarter and the gate to Lakehaven Heights outside the city.

“Please, tell me if you uncover anything.” Alisha's eyes searched Rose's.

“I will.” Rose rested a hand on her hip, her brow creasing slightly. “I suppose as the Shepherd now, I can't get too involved in your politics, but... I hope everything on your end doesn't give you too much of a headache.”

A small little laugh, at once amused and rueful escaped Alisha's throat. “I wish we didn't have to keep parting ways like this.”

“It's the unfortunate reality of living in separate worlds.” Rose rubbed the back of her neck, and shifted her gaze to the cobbled stones beneath their feet.

“Indeed,” Alisha sighed. “I suppose our next meeting will be something for me to look forward to in all this mess.”

“Ah, yeah.” Rose cleared her throat. “Well, see ya!” She gave Alisha two-fingered salute.

“Safe travels.” Alisha waved as she watched Rose disappear into the throng of people that packed Ladylake's main street.

She spent the entire walk to the palace rehearsing her lines with Belle. She couldn't tell if she was more hopeful of Belle having received the same letter, or more hopeful that Belle be saved from also being a target. Though if Belle weren't also a target, would that mean she was somehow involved? Was she pulling strings in the shadows that Alisha couldn't see?

The chancellors lived in the castle, as to be readily accessible by the ruling monarch for counsel, and the policy persisted despite not having such a ruler for more than a decade. Alisha hesitated outside Belle's apartments. Her fear of the truths that may lay within entangling her legs in a sticky web. She squeezed her eyes shut and inhaled deeply. She exhaled as she knocked on the door.

Belle answered the door herself, only the faintest hint of surprise touching her features when she saw Alisha.

“Your Highness,” she said in greeting, a question lingering around the address.

“Forgive me for calling upon you so suddenly, Chancellor, but if I could have a moment of your time, there is something important I'd like to discuss with you.”

Belle paused for the blink of an eye before stepping aside to allow Alisha entry. “Certainly.” She shut the door behind her. “Would you like some tea?”

“I'm fine, thank you.” Alisha held up a hand. Then not knowing any way other than to be direct, she presented the mail she'd received earlier that morning and handed it to Belle. “I was wondering if you'd received something similar this morning.”

The older woman unfolded the stationary and skimmed it over. “This note about potential heirs being barred from inheritance talks?”

“Yes. You are also in line, so I wondered if you received something similar.”

“I am, but I received no such message.” Belle moved to a chair and gestured for Alisha to sit across from her.

Alisha took the invitation.

“You don't doubt me,” Belle stated as a matter of fact, scrutinizing Alisha's face.

Alisha held her chin in her hand and tapped the corner of her mouth with her index finger, trying to summon a coherent response out of all the thoughts jumbled in her head. “Well, I can't see a motive for lying about _not_ receiving the same message.”

“But if I'd lied about having the message when I didn't, it would bring into question my involvement?”

“Exactly.”

“I admire your logic,” Belle folded her hands together in her lap, “but just because you can't see a motive does not mean there isn't one. Bribery and blackmail are always possibilities.”

“But to what end?”

“To ends you cannot imagine.”

Alisha frowned. “I am not so naïve, but I do not believe you are the type to cave to such methods. Less so after you'd go so far to make such a point.”

“I appreciate the sentiment behind your faith in me, though I assure you it is misplaced.” Belle sat like a gargoyle, perched on the edge her seat with a face made of stone.

Discomfort rose like a lump in Alisha's throat that she couldn't swallow. It was hard to believe this was the same woman who just yesterday had jovially discussed having her portrait painted. Though Belle could be trusted to treat important matters seriously, she wasn't normally this... grave.

“Why are you trying so overtly to convince me not to trust you? I don't understand.”

“It is precisely because you don't understand. Your directness is one of your assets, however, politics are rarely direct – though I am sure you are familiar with that much. The point I am trying to make, Your Highness, is that regardless of whatever logic you apply to this situation, it doesn't change the fact that I have the much more to gain by lying to you, than telling you the truth. Anything I say to you must be taken with a grain of salt.”

The need to walk away with answers was an insatiable hunger, roiling in Alisha stomach. Maybe if she asked a different question: “It read 'on behalf of the Royal Council.' Do you think it could be a bluff and Chancellor Roderick wrote the letter on his own?”

“Roderick hardly does anything on his own.”

“So you think there are others behind it?”

Belle's mouth thinned into a line. “I think you should be careful of whose attention you bring this to, so that it may not seem like an accusation.”

Alisha felt herself deflate, begin to collapse in on herself at the dawning of her impotence. It was becoming increasingly suspect that Belle actually knew something, but Alisha was getting none of the answers she had hoped for. And her plans to bring the matter Halbridge were crumbling under the weight of her growing uncertainty. Belle was right. No matter how she broached the subject, it could seem like an accusation to him.

“I see,” Alisha said slowly, a resigned sigh escaping her lips.

“At the risk of sounding callous, I would like to change the subject.”

“It's all right. Go ahead.”

Belle cast her gaze to someplace far across the room. A sorrowful crease afflicted her brow. “We talked about it casually yesterday, before the news of His Highness' passing, but perhaps the time could not be more right to have your portrait taken. You need to be prepared in the event that the Council chooses you.”

Alisha almost laughed on reflex, but it died – mirthless – in her throat. “I think we both know the likelihood of that happening.”

“You have one of the stronger claims, by your blood. Lady Edith might have been an easy choice, if her background were not so modest. Her only tie to the throne was her marriage to the late king.”

“There are still others who would come before me,” Alisha was quick to note.

“Not many.” Belle's eyes calmly returned to Alisha's face. “I am just suggesting it is best to be prepared.”

There was a lull in the conversation. Having no new reply, Alisha stood and said, “Thank you for your time. I'll be going, as I don't want to take up too much of it. I will take your advice to heart. Your concern is appreciated.”

“Of course,” Belle walked her to the door and bowed as she saw the princess off.

All the way from Belle's apartments to the knights' barracks to report for duty, a single thought stalked Alisha: What was Belle hiding? And even more disconcerting were the lengths Belle went to in order to make it obvious. She could have just told her plainly. What on earth was going on?

…

Rose stopped by Reynold's manor on her way to Rolance. The malevolance had not returned. She tried not to wonder when she'd see Alisha again as she observed the steady flow of visitors and deliveries streaming on and off the premises. It was unlikely the culprit, or culprits plural, would return to the scene of the crime. Not with so many people now coming and going. She hoped the Scattered Bones would have some kind of lead in Lastonbell. She arrived only to be disappointed.

“Really? Nothing?” Rose asked, incredulous.

A chorus of shaking heads filled her vision, failure echoing off the walls and coming back to strike Rose with frustration. Suddenly she was tired of standing, she plopped down onto the mattress behind her. They were in the Tintagel Ruins again. It was no longer their base of operations, but they still used it to touch base and strategize in secret.

“It's obvious there's unrest,” said Eguille, “but there has been nothing so far to lead us to an underground movement.”

Rose ran a tired hand through her hair. “Then what was up with the guy killing his friend?”

“No one is doubting what happened, it's just... it's been very quiet,” said Talfryn.

“Whoever's running the show must be very good,” Eguille added. “And if they were involved in the prince's death, they would want to lay low for a while.”

Rose groaned, squeezing her eyes closed and rubbing her temples. “Well, at least I have something that _might_ help.” She tossed the bag with the poison sample to Felice without so much as a warning.

Felice caught it with practiced ease. “What's this?”

“A sample of the poison used on the prince. I got it from the stab wound. If we're lucky, it's something traceable.”

A difficult expression crossed Felice's face. “I'll take care of it, but we haven't done anything like this in a while. It may take sometime to put together all the tools and ingredients I need to identify it.”

Rose threw her head back and her hands up, weakly flipping an imaginary table. “It takes as long as it takes, just so long as you do it as fast as you can.” She rolled her head around to face Rosh. “Rosh, I hope you need significantly less preparation to identify animal tracks.”

“Just say where.”

“Good.”

“Now what do _you_ plan on doing? Are you going back to Hyland?” Felice asked.

Rose folded her arms over her chest. That had been the plan – to report to Alisha. But that was assuming she'd have anything to report. As it turned out, she was fresh out of news. “I don't really have a reason to,” Rose found herself saying.

“Then why don't you stay with us for a while,” Felice suggested with a gentle smile. “You've been away a lot lately and we're starting to miss you. Plus, it seems like we're going to need all the hands we can get if we're going to uncover this den of extremists.”

“Certainly wouldn't hurt to have the boss back on board,” Eguille chimed in.

Rose opened her mouth to protest, expecting words leave her mouth automatically.

“Okay. Sure,” she said reluctantly, realizing her well of excuses had run dry.

…

When the news had finally reached Pendrago, Sergei found himself in the throne room arguing with the Emperor of Rolance.

“Will all due respect, Your Majesty,” Sergei fought hard to keep the exasperation out of his voice, “I urge you to reconsider.”

“But Captain Strelka,” the emperor smiled, deaf to reason, “would it not be a moving display of solidarity, a testament to our commitment for future peace, for the Emperor of Rolance himself to pay his respects and provide his support at Prince Reynold's funeral?”

Deep breaths, Sergei reminded himself. He was seriously weighing the pros and cons of putting his own monarch under house arrest. “When we have only just narrowly avoided a full-out war, and when dissenters are likely to place the blame on Rolance for their prince's death, no. I cannot recommend it.”

“What's the worst that could happen?” The emperor made a sweeping gesture.

“I hope that wasn't a serious question.”

“And what if it was?” The emperor leaned forward.

“You could be assassinated,” Sergei replied in a tone as flat as his expression. “Which is why I still say if you insist upon doing something, I suggest you send an honor guard instead of attending personally. As ambassador, I am more than happy to represent you.”

“We don't have time to argue this.” The emperor dismissed him with a wave of his hand. “If we don't leave now we won't make it to Hyland in time. I will go in person, end of discussion. As for my safety, you will accompany me, leading a personal guard of twenty of the best you can lend. I hope that is enough to satisfy you because I will hear no more of your complaints.”

“...As you wish, Your Majesty.” Sergei surrendered through gritted teeth.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading this far! I apologize for the lack of seraphim in this chapter, but I really wanted this chapter to focus on Alisha and Rose. Again, constructive criticism _please_! Are Rose and Alisha in character? Do I need to add more feelings? Are there too many? etc etc


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